A Guiltless Child
by Spydertiger
Summary: A story of Helle Anatolia's transformation into a Noah. As her experiences distance her more and more from her family, she finds that her Noah memory will contain more consequences could ever be imagined. OC story, duhh
1. What a good girl

"Come here, my darling."

"Why, mama?"

"I would like to do your hair."

After a moment's hesitation, the slight, dark-haired girl put her porcelain doll down and obediently padded over to the window, settling herself on the reclining couch before her mother, her hands folded neatly in her skirted lap. Behind her, the stern-looking woman's face softened into a vague smile, and she began dragging a silver-backed hairbrush through Helle Anatolia's thick wavy hair. "Did you wash last night?"

"Yes, mama."

"Good girl." In silence, Ionna brushed her daughter's hair out with strong, fluid movements, watching the black spill over the cream silk of the girl's dress. Carefully she laid the brush aside and ran a white hand through Helle's hair, pausing to disentangle one lock from the heavy bronze ring she wore on one finger. Helle sat very still as her mother began sifting her hair into two chunks, watching the morning sun continue its steady ascent above a landscape of rich red rooftops. A sea breeze sprung up, stirring the heavy dark trees that intercepted the mismatched streets. Somewhere amongst the whitewashed houses a goat began to bleat, the sound cutting through the still Mediterranean climate.

A small island, Samothrace was unremarkable in both appearances and culture. Most of the richer gentry made their homes on the mainland, in Greece, and usually owned second homes on the larger, lusher islands such as Crete. Although the proud and socially-conscious Ionna would never have admitted it, the Anatolia family were not _quite_ affluent enough to afford such luxuries; their large airy home on Samothrace was inherited from Ionna's grandfather, and while it was not as lavish or well-furnished as their residence in Greece, it was nonetheless pretty, and extremely comfortable.

Humming absent-mindedly, Ionna slipped the lid off a delicate wooden box and began pawing through its contents, extracting several lengths of silvery ribbon, so thin as to resemble spider's webs. Inserting them into her lips and letting them hang from her mouth, she began combing through one half of hair, creating the beginnings of a plait. "Your father and I shall have to go out again today, my dear," she said awkwardly through the ribbons.

Inwardly, Helle sighed. She stared down at her dainty hands as her mother began weaving the first of the silvery threads into the plait, intertwining it with the locks of hair. As she examined her fingers and palms, she noticed that the skin was pale, and sallow from being confined indoors for so long.

"Helle?" Ionna paused in her plaiting. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, mother." Helle began picking at the cuticle of one nail, earning herself a sharp tug from the back of the head.

"A lady does not _fiddle_," said her mother reproachfully. "I hope you will behave for poor Elena."

"I _always_ behave, mother," said Helle between gritted teeth, thinking bitterly of her round-figured nursemaid. "It's Elena who misbehaves."

"Now Helle, darling, lying does not become you."

"Elena tells tales about me, mother, and she steals plums from the kitchen," averred Helle, hoping her mother wouldn't see that she was lying through her teeth.

"Yes, well," sighed Ionna, adding a second thread to the plait. "I shall speak to her then. I only hope we don't have to dismiss her as we did with Sofia."

Unseen by her mother, Helle smiled wickedly to herself as she remembered her last maid, crying and begging on the doorstep as her father glowered sternly down, Sofia insisting desperately that she had never once touched the mistress' belongings. Helle had watched from the top window of the house, and had then turned away, admiring the rich shine of her mother's rings on her tiny ten year-old fingers.

"And Elena sometimes - "

"Helle, please. I will speak to her."

Helle lapsed into a sulky silence while her mother finished off the first plait with a pretty silken blue bow. It hung down against her back, the silver threads glimmering in the strengthening sunlight in the depths of her otherwise jet-black hair. Smiling in satisfaction, Ionna began on the second plait.

"Mother, when can I come into the village with you and Papa?"

"When you are older," said Ionna mechanically, in a voice that suggested she'd told Helle this many times before.

"But _mama_," whined Helle. "It's so _boring_, staying inside all day!"

"If you go outside too often, my dearest, your complexion will darken," explained Ionna. "Do you not want to be beautiful and pale like me?"

Of _course_ Helle did; she loved the beautiful and rich ladies she met at her parents' parties, and always admired their powder-white skin. She, like all little girls her age, doted on the prettily pale princesses and heroines in all the storybooks. But she was getting _so _tired of playing in the nursery by herself. "I want to come with you today, mama."

"No, Helle," said Ionna in a firm voice that invited no argument. "Your father and I will return for lunch."

"And then can - "

"No."

Conceding defeat, Helle allowed her mother to finish off her hair and then slid off the velveted couch, brushing her skirt down and proudly touching the thick glossy plaits now hanging from her head. "Thank you, mama."

"Good girl," smiled Ionna, picking up the hairbrush and getting fluidly to her feet. She, tall and magnificently elegant, towered over her diminutive daughter, her equally glossy hair gathered into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Ionna had a rather heavy-jawed face, giving her a severe appearance that was not helped by her dark eyes. But she still smiled genuinely at her daughter, and waved a bejewelled hand. "Now go and play with Elena."

Nodding dutifully, Helle trotted out of the morning-room, only to stop and dash nimbly into a side door, nearly colliding with a bundle of brooms that were propped up inside. Muttering dubiously, she crouched by the cupboard door and watched carefully through the narrow crack as her mother glided into the corridor and then away towards the front door.

As silently as she could Helle slipped from the broom cupboard - first brushing herself free of any dust - and tiptoed after her mother. Towards the end of the corridor she peeped cautiously around the corner, and watched as a maid helped Ionna into a gauzy shawl by the front door.

Athanasios Anatolia, a tall, thin-faced man, was waiting impatiently ahead of his wife, tapping a polished cane against his expensive shoes. When Ionna was ready, he offered her his arm without so much as a glance and together the pair drifted away through the white front door, a second maid scurrying after them with a parasol.

"Helle, what are you doing?"

At the sound of Elena's curious voice, Helle jumped violently, tripping on the floor tiles and landing heavily on her knees. From this position she glowered meaningfully up at the slightly plump, fair-haired Elena, who was hovering uncertainly, hands twisting nervously in her apron.

"I was doing _nothing_," Helle muttered, getting to her feet.

"I was not doing anything," Elena corrected the girl, gently steering her up a set of stairs. "It sounds better."

"I don't care."

"Come now, let's look at your reading."

"Don't want to."

Elena sighed, and removed her hand from the difficult little child. "Your mother wants you to. Now come."

Grudgingly Helle allowed herself to be steered into the schoolroom, staring distrustfully around at the books adorning the walls. "I can't have lessons today, Elena. The governess is away."

"Nevertheless, you will read." Elena sat Helle firmly down in a chair and pushed a book into her hands. "I must clean the bathroom, so I'd like you to be quiet for me for a bit."

"Yes," said Helle, pretending to pick the book and start to read. Warily her eyes followed Elena as the nursemaid strode from the room. As soon as the schoolroom door banged shut, Helle tossed the book aside and leapt to her feet, her chair scraping noisily on the bare floor. After listening carefully for a minute or two, she smiled wickedly to herself and danced over to a second door, pushing it open to reveal the night nursery. It was windowless and the sunlight poured into it, suddenly illuminating the entire room, from its impeccably tidy bed to the crystal jug perched atop the chest-of-drawers. Quietly Helle padded over to it and tugged the top drawer opening, plunging her arm in among piles of heavy dark skirts and white chiffon to the bottom, where she found a small wooden box, square and shallow. After a moment's difficulty she extracted it from the clothes and flipped the lid up to reveal the twisted remains of several cheap cigarettes. Wincing in disgust from the smell, she skipped back into the schoolroom and headed straight for the only window.

Humming to herself, Helle struggled for a few moments and finally succeeded in pushing the window up, the sea breeze rushing in and stirring her hair. Cautiously she leaned out and emptied the contents of her box out, watching the burnt white stubs tumble to earth and landing in the dried-up flowerbeds below.

She shut the window, and went to return the box to its hiding place.

* * *

"Elena, I am disappointed," Athanasios said grimly, folding his arms. The woman wrung her hands and keened miserably. "I swear, sir, it wasn't me! I don't smoke!"

"No other staff uses the schoolroom," snapped Athanasios. "And the gardener tells me that's the only place he's been finding them! Do you take me for a fool?"

"No, of course not, sir, it's just - "

"Be quiet. I'm giving you one more chance."

Tearfully Elena nodded, and bowed. She knew that she was lucky. However frightening he might appear, Athanasios was fond of giving second chances. It gave him opportunity to torture his staff some more.

In the next door room, Helle smiled to herself from the sofa, where she was at last engrossed in her book. Next to her, Ionna quietly leafed through a newspaper, pretending to not hear Athanasios' voice get louder as he rebuked Elena further.

Distractedly Helle folded and unfolded a corner of the page, staring vacantly at the same line of text. "Mother."

"Yes, my dear."

"May I ask a question?"

"You may ask one further, yes," said Ionna, smiling slightly ironically.

"What does it mean for a man to have no head?"

Ionna's smile slipped slightly and she stared at her daughter. "I beg your pardon?"

"Is a man without a head terribly ill?"

"Darling, a man cannot live without his head," said Ionna, frowning in confusion. "Where did you see a man with no head?"

"I dreamed it last night, mama."

"And was he dead?"

"No, mama."

"Well, dearest, it was a dream, wasn't it? In reality, a man with no head is, well, dead," said Ionna, smiling once more. It was an insincere smile; behind it hid a flicker of worry.

"He did die, mama," explained Helle, turning several pages in her book. "Although not at first."

"Oh." Ionna was silent for a moment, brows creased with concern. "Well Helle, I think that headless men and death are terribly unsuitable subjects for a little girl. Why did you have this awful dream?"

"I don't know," admitted Helle.

"Did Elena read you a horrible story before bed?"

"No."

"I don't want to hear any more about headless men, all right?""But it wasn't just headless men, Mother," added Helle, lowering the book. "I saw much more. I saw a whole army of men, and they all fell and drowned in their own blood."

"That's enough, Helle," snapped Ionna, throwing the paper aside and advancing on her daughter. "You must not talk about such horrible things! Come, go to bed."

Bewildered, Helle stared up at her mother's angry face, and then leapt off the sofa. "Yes, mama."

Ionna watched her daughter disappear down the corridor, and her frown deepened.

Upstairs, Helle sat down on her bed with a creaking of springs and stared at the patch of dying light that was slowly creeping across the schoolroom floor. Irritated, she got up and slammed the bedroom door closed, cutting off the view of the empty and still schoolroom. Then she opened it again, frightened of the darkness she'd created.

At the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, Helle gave an involuntary squeak of panic and dived into bed, ensconcing herself between the newly-washed sheets. A moment later, and the door to the schoolroom creaked open. A wide shadow was cast across the barren floor, and Helle watched it nervously through her bedroom doorway.

Elena appeared suddenly, blocking out the evening light. Even in the purple shadows, Helle could see the maid's dishevelled hair and tearstained face. Taking a deep breath, Elena moved into the bedroom, and bent over the bed. Without a look at Helle, she lifted the duvet with trembling hands and tucked the little girl in, trying to ignore the glittering dark eyes that watched her every mood.

As Elena straightened up, Helle stirred. "Do you know what it means when a man has no head?"

"No, Helle, I do not."

Helle watched Elena carefully. "Then you're not very clever, Elena. Mother knew."

"You may think that, you wicked child," said Elena through clenched teeth. "But I know that it is you who constantly untidies the bathroom, and who steals food and blames me, and who fabricates lies about me smoking."

To Elena's intense disappointment, no look of horror crossed Helle's face. She merely shrugged and snuggled deeper into the covers. "Mother and Father won't believe you."

"You awful little girl!" cried Elena, spinning to face away from Helle and her shrewd gaze. Desperately she pressed her hands to her already damp eyes. "I may be dismissed because of you!"

"Then I'll get a new nurse."

"And what of me?" shrilled Elena. "I need money! I need a job!"

"You'll find another," said Helle dismissively. "Now go away. I want to sleep."

"Don't you feel any remorse at all for me?"

Helle paused, and then shook her head. "I don't think so."

"You are an guiltless child!" sobbed Elena. "You feel nothing for what you've done!"

"Go away."

After a moment of trying to find the appropriate words, Elena simply burst into tears and scurried from the room. Helle giggled and turned on her side, tucking one hand comfortably under her pillow. She yawned hugely as her eyelids grew heavy, and several minutes later was snoring gently, eyelids fluttering as she dreamed.

Several hours later, and Helle shot abruptly upwards, hair tousled and eyes wild in the dark. Gradually her panicked breathing slowed, and she slumped backwards against the pillow, one hand pressed to her eyes. Again she saw the pitiful woman loom out of the darkness, mouth stretched wide in a scream of anguish as she clutched her dying child to her breast.

Helle whimpered and dragged her pillow over her face, but the image remained. The woman shimmered, twisted, and mutated into Elena, crouching on the floor and sobbing into her apron. As Elena cried, a deep red stain began to creep across the landscape of Helle's dreams, slowly dying everything a brownish damask colour.

Elena collapsed before Helle's eyes, and she watched in repulsion as the woman's body began to twist grotesquely, and then shoot skywards. In awed horror, Helle tilted her vision upwards and watched the heavy grey object disappear into the black clouds.

The entire landscape was doused in red now, and pain-stooped shadows began creeping past, some dragging themselves by only their arms. Several simply ground to a halt and lay there helplessly, crying piteously to their unresponsive companions. Some began howling and pointing towards the crimson sky in terror, where weirdly indistinct shapes were rapidly gathering.

Somewhere in Helle's dream a pair of shining glasses loomed, glinting out from beneath the heavy shadows cast by an immense top hat. Dead and dying figures cascaded past behind the glass lenses, and they gradually began to fill with blood as a wine glass fills with red wine.

"_You guiltless child!" _

"I am sorry, Elena."

"_Do you mean that?"_

"Of course I do," replied Helle impatiently.

Someone clicked their tongue in amusement. _"You are even pitiless in lies."_

That was not Elena's voice,

"_Sometime you will have to learn…"_ The blood was brimming over the glasses now, and red began trickling down in a cruel imitation of tears. _"…Everyone feels remorse in some form or other_."

"What business is that of yours?"

"_It is entirely my business, my dear. Guilt is a massive burden."_

In disgust Helle looked away from the pouring blood, only to rest her gaze upon a terribly desolate landscape spread out below her. The cliff under her feet was blackened from soot, and the land below was a strange purplish red. People wallowed helplessly in flaming pits, and some crawled brokenly across the rocky ground, smearing their own blood everywhere.

"…Is this Hell?"

Someone chuckled at that. _"No. That's you._"

Helle scowled slightly. "That joke is in very poor taste."

"_Can you see what I see?"_

Helle pointed at the distant ground. "Do you mean that?"

"_Yes._"

She bit her lip and watched a woman stagger to her feet, crying to the sky as the wind battered her burnt clothing and frail body relentlessly. As she lurched forwards, a man clasped her ankle, gesturing madly to his disembowelled stomach. Helle could hear his cries for help even from up here.

She closed her eyes. "I don't like it. Make it go away."

"_Impetuous child. Why should it?"_

"Because," she insisted, pressing her fingers into her shut eyes, and trying not to hear the increasing volume of the terrible screams from below.

"_Noah has done some terrible things in his lifetime."_

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"_That's a shame." _The voice began to recede. _"You're going to have to bear the consequences of his actions, after all."_

"What?" Helle opened her eyes and spun around, to be greeted with more black rock, and emptiness. "What are you talking about? Why should I?"

The voice continued, and she could hear the smile in it. _"How would you feel, knowing that you had caused all the suffering you have witnessed?"_

"But I didn't - "

"_But imagine."_

Helle hesitated. "…I would feel terrible."

"_That's good_," sighed the voice, and now she wasn't sure if it was there any more, or if it was simply the wind playing a cruel joke with her. _"You're on the way to accepting responsibility. And with responsibility comes the guilt."_

Helle awoke in a panic, sweat streaming off her frightened face, the eerie voice still ringing in her ears.


	2. First Awakening

Elena was dismissed the next week. Silently Helle watched from her usual spot in the day nursery, as Elena crouched wailing on the doorstep, much as Sofia had done, clinging to her father's trouser leg and begging forgiveness.

Athanasios' voice carried even from the down there and through the window. "Elena, you are demeaning yourself, and me. Please get up, and leave."

"I beg of you sir, let me stay! I am not to blame!"

"Your lying is just convincing me further that you are an unsuitable nursemaid for my daughter."

He stepped back, forcing Elena to let go, and watched coldly as she turned slowly, sobbing into her apron, and began staggering to her feet. Helle's gaze followed her all down the front path, until Elena reached the gates, and turned one last time. She gazed back at Athanasios imploringly, and he folded his arms and waited. Suddenly Elena spotted Helle, watching everything from the top floor window. Her face creased with loathing and misery. She stared up at the little girl for several minutes, as though searching desperately for the right parting words, and then simply shook her head at Helle and burst into tears again, disappearing forever into the street.

Behind Helle, the door clicked and swung open, revealing Ionna, tall and beautiful in a diaphanous grey dress and shawl. Smiling sadly at her daughter, she drifted over to the window and gently took Helle's arm, steering her away. "I'm sorry you had to see that, darling."

"That's quite all right, mother."

"We'll find you a new nurse, a nice and proper one, yes?"

"I don't want a new nurse," explained Helle, glancing over her shoulder as the decrepit old gardener stomped past, a shovel resting on one shoulder. He cast a frightened look at her, put his head down and hurried on.

"Helle dear, don't argue. In the meantime, why don't you practice your singing?"

"Yes mama."

Ionna took Helle into a pale blue, brightly lit room. The afternoon sun beamed through its one glass wall, behind which one could just make out the dusty yellows and greens of the garden. Despite the gardener's best efforts, the hot Greek summer had taken its toll on the plants.

Patiently Helle took her seat in a soft cushioned wicker chair, and watched her mother polish one corner of a piano that would once have been grand, but was now rather chipped and sun-bleached. "Mother, I don't need the piano."

Ionna paused and glanced around at Helle. "Are you sure, my darling?"

Averting her eyes, Helle nodded. "I can practice without music. It's not a problem."

"You don't want me to play with you?"

"No, thank you, mother."

Slightly disappointed, Ionna nodded and lowered her hand from the piano lid. Smiling thinly at Helle, she swept from the room. Helle leapt off the chair and tottered to the door, flinging it open and staring at her mother's rapidly decreasing figure. "Mother?"

Ionna said nothing, didn't even turn around. Sighing to herself, Helle closed the door once more and wandered back to the piano, casting an eye over the many sheets of beautifully inked paper that were cascading over its glossy black surface. Picking one up, she closed her eyes and selected a note at random. At her first attempt her voice wavered and died, the note falling flat in the still air. Frowning with concentration, Helle sat down and turned back to the first page of the song. Taking a deep breath, she passed a hand through her already tidy hair and began to sing.

***

Athanasios frowned at the small notebook in his hands. "When did Helle write this?"

"Two days ago," said Ionna, gazing vacantly out the window, sewing lying forgotten in her lap.

"Hm. Have you read it, dear?"

"Bits," said Ionna vaguely.

His frown deepening, Athanasios flipped several pages, examining the tiny slanted handwriting. "Listen to this: 'The gentlemen was gone yet his wife remained, weeping and weeping until her eyes were dry, and so she killed herself and fed the skeleton into her body and so they lived again as one'." Athanasios threw the book down onto a table, making Ionna flinch. He turned his back on his wife, hands in his pockets and chewed contemplatively on his lip. "It's not like Helle to be so morbid."

"I don't know…" murmured Ionna. "She has been getting so odd lately."

"Odd?" Athanasios glanced sharply at her. "How so?"

"Oh, I don't know," moaned Ionna, covering her face with her hands. "Just so…strange. I'm finding it hard to look her in the eyes any more." She lowered her fingers from her eyes, and looked up at Athanasios, expression tired and worn. "I do _try_, my darling. I make an effort to speak and spend time with her…but I feel she doesn't want it any more."

"I suppose she's just beginning to grow up," shrugged Athanasios, picking the book up once more. "Perhaps we should start looking for a husband for her."

"She'll be eleven in two weeks. She's too young."

"Well. Sometime soon perhaps." There was a silence, broken only by the gentle rustling of paper as Athanasios turned pages.

"Darling, I feel we need to hire a new nursemaid as soon as possible," sighed Ionna.

"It won't be easy," admitted Athanasios. "Helle can be such a difficult child. Why don't we wait, and then you can try spending more time with her?"

"I don't want to," breathed Ionna, bearing a striking similarity to her daughter's selfish conceitedness. "I'm telling you, Athanasios, I can't look at her anymore."

"Why ever not?" demanded Athanasios, lowering the book and staring at his wife in surprise.

"I know it's childish of me," whispered Ionna, standing up and clinging to her husband. "But Athanasios, she looks at me sometimes, and…I swear that, even for a moment, her eyes are _yellow_."

Athanasios frowned.

"I mean it," whimpered Ionna. "At first I thought I was imagining things, but it keeps happening…her eyes honestly go yellow, like…like a wolf's or something…"

"Well darling, I'm sure it's nothing," managed Athanasios after a moment. "If it really worries you, we can take Helle to a doctor tomorrow."

He made a mental note to book his wife in too. Hallucinations were not a good sign. He patted Ionna's shoulder and smiled reassuringly at her. "We'll sort it out, don't you worry."

After a moment, Ionna returned his smile. "I'll try not to."

They both jumped suddenly as there was a gentle tap at the door. After a moment's tense silence, Athanasios dropped his hands from Ionna and strode over, wrenching it open.

Pale-skinned and dark-haired, Helle gazed up at her father, blinking hopefully. "Father, I was hoping we could go out to dinner tonight…"

"We can consider it, sweetie," smiled Athanasios, putting his arm around Ionna's shoulders. "That would be nice, wouldn't it, darling?"

"Of course," said Ionna, managing a smile. "Did you practice your singing, Helle?"

"Yes, mama," beamed Helle proudly. "Would you like to hear me?"

Athanasios nudged Ionna as the woman hesitated slightly. She shook her head and forced herself to smile back at Helle. "That would be lovely, my darling. Shall I come and play the piano for you?"

"Yes, please." Helle spun daintily on her heel and skipped down the corridor again, her white skirt flying around her skinny knees.

"Go, dearest," whispered Athanasios, gently pushing Ionna through the door. "I'll go and find a restaurant for this evening."

Ionna nodded and strode away, the storm-grey material of her dress streaming behind her tall form. Thoughtfully Athanasios watched her go, and then he returned to perusing Helle's notebook. He frowned in concern at what he saw, running his gaze over pages of narrow dark scribbles, and the occasional blotchy ink drawing of what looked like horribly mauled people. He allowed his hand to hover over the phone, trying to remember the name and number of the family doctor. Just as he was about to knock the receiver off the hook and begin dialling, a scream echoed from the depths of the house, making him jump and drop both the phone and book to the floor with a loud clatter.

"Ionna!" He threw himself at the door and burst into the corridor.

"Athanasios! Oh, Athanasios!" Her wails echoed off the walls, reverberating and doubling in volume. Athanasios quickened his pace and rounded the corner, to be greeted by his wife kneeling on the floor, reaching out with trembling hands to their daughter's inert form. Helle lay slumped on one side, hair spread over her face and limp arms flung over the tiled floor.

Athanasios dropped down beside Ionna and gently shook Helle's shoulder. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know!" cried Ionna. "She just collapsed! Call a doctor, get help!"

"Helle? Helle!" Carefully Athanasios pulled Helle towards him and brushed the hair from her face. "Are you awake, darling?"

"Athanasios, she's bleeding!" Ionna grabbed her husbands arm. "She's hit her head!"

Horrified, Athanasios touched his fingers to Helle's forehead. The blood stood out starkly against her white skin, and as he gently lifted her into a sitting position it tricked down her face, staining her cheeks. He pressed a hand to her temple and swept it across, smearing the blood away. Immediately it welled up again, causing Athanasios to frown in concern and dab it away once more. "She's cut herself."

Ionna surged to her feet and staggered away. "I'm calling a doctor."

As his wife disappeared around the corner, Athanasios swallowed and cradled Helle's unconscious head in his hands. The blood continued to run over her cheeks and down the side of her head into her hair, dripping onto Athanasios' otherwise pristine suit. He raised a hand above her face with half a mind to clean the blood off again, only to freeze in shock as Helle's eyes shot open and she gazed up at her father.

Her eyes gleamed yellow in the fading sunlight that struggled through the one unclean window of the corridor.

"Helle!" Athanasios gently leaned her against the wall, and squatted in front of her, peering into his daughter's face. He hesitated, and waved an uncertain hand at her. "Helle? Are you feeling okay, darling?"

"Never better, my father," she breathed, lowering her hand from her face. "It has been _so_ long…"

"Helle?" He blinked in confusion, and moved back slightly. "Are you…what's the matter?"

"Move out of my way," said Helle suddenly, pushing her father to one side and slowly struggling to her feet. Once up, she rubbed at her forehead furiously, gazing at the crimson staining her fingertips. Athanasios stared up at her, his mouth falling open at the bizarre cross shapes scored across her brow. "Helle, you're hurt!"

"Oh don't be silly," she laughed, cleaning the blood from her fingers with her tongue. "Hmm…" Curiously she examined her pale, mild hands, turning them before her newly glimmering golden eyes. "Still a little premature…I'll have to wait a little longer before greeting my siblings, I suppose…"

At this moment Ionna returned, wringing her hands in anxiety. "Athanasios, I called the doctor, he's on his way now. I - " She abruptly stopped short, staring at Helle. "Oh darling, you're standing again! How are you feeling?"

"Ionna, there's something wrong with her!" said Athanasios, getting to his feet and stumbling to his wife's side. "She's not herself!"

"Do be _quiet_," said Helle, her tone becoming slightly snappish. She frowned at her parents, with an expression that was somehow too old to belong to her.

Frightened, Ionna clung to Athanasios' arm and stared at Helle with wide eyes. "Athanasios, her eyes!"

"I know, Ionna. But that's not all…"

Suddenly Ionna shrieked and charged forwards to catch Helle as her eyes rolled upwards into her head and she crumpled before their eyes. She sagged in her mother's arms, and Ionna began whimpering helplessly, stroking Helle's damp and stained forehead. "Oh Athanasios, what's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," moaned Athanasios. "We'll just have to wait for the doctor to get here. In the meantime, bandage up her forehead."

"I…can't."

"What?" He stared incredulously at her. "Why not?"

"It's…it's gone." They both leaned over Helle, and gawped at the bloodstained, sweaty, and completely unharmed, surface of Helle's skin. With a trembling hand Ionna rubbed the worst of the blood off, and shook her head in disbelief. "What's going on, Athanasios?"

"I don't know," said Athanasios in a hushed voice. "Come on. Let's get her upstairs, and we'll see what the doctor says…"

Ionna followed her husband up the staircase, her worried gaze fixed firmly on Helle as the girl's head lolled brokenly from her father's arms.

***

"Temperature, certainly," frowned the doctor, a hand resting on Helle's forehead. "Only slight, but it's there. I can't seem to find anything else wrong, though."

"But she was bleeding from the forehead not twenty minutes ago!" said Athanasios. "There's got to be something you can do, Vlasis."

Solemnly, Vlasis shook his head and shrugged helplessly at Ionna and Athanasios. "I really can't see anything else wrong with her." He closed his thin black case. "Apart from slight bruising on her forehead, and a negligible temperature, she's fine."

"Why did she pass out then?" demanded Ionna, snatching up a bowl of water and a sponge to begin dabbing Helle's still-stained skin.

Vlasis shrugged. "Possibly she was suffering from the heat. Has she been drinking enough?"

"Of course she has," snapped Ionna.

"Darling, please," Athanasios soothed. He nodded at Vlasis. "Well, thank you anyway."

"Her eyes changed colour!" cried Ionna shrilly, pointing at Vlasis with a trembling finger. "You didn't see it! They turned _yellow!"_

Vlasis glanced at Athanasios, eyebrows raised. The other man sighed, and nodded. "Actually, that's true."

"Hmm." Vlasis frowned and ran a hand over his chin with a rasp of stubble. He bent over Helle and prised her eyelids open. "Well, they're brown now. Has she been exposed to any dangerous substances?"

"Her maid smoked," said Ionna immediately. "Every day. Could that be it, doctor?"

"Probably not," admitted Vlasis. "I really don't know. I've never heard of eyes changing colour like that before. I'd have to see it for myself before I can make any sort of decision."

"She was acting strange too," said Ionna breathlessly. "What did she say, Athanasios?"

"I don't remember," frowned Athanasios. "She seemed to forget who she was…She didn't recognise us."

"It's likely her head was suffering from her fainting episode," explained Vlasis, sliding his gloves off and grabbing his case. "Think of it as amnesia. If anything further happens, give me a call."

But before he could take a step from Helle's bedside, her eyes flicked open and her hand shot out to attach itself to Vlasis' wrist. He blinked in surprise and lifted his arm slightly. She clung tighter and pulled herself into a wobbly sitting position, eyes fixed on his shocked face.

He gaped at her. "Her eyes - "

"I told you!" cried Ionna. "Look at her, Vlasis! What's wrong with her?"

Helle's gaze flicked briefly over to Ionna and Athanasios, and then returned immediately to Vlasis. "Who are you?"

He shook his hand in an attempt to loosen her grip. "Helle, I'm Vlasis. Your doctor. You've known me for four years."

"Oh, of course." She threw his hand aside and threw the duvet back. "Move out of my way."

"Helle, stay down," said Vlasis firmly. "It's important you rest."

Athanasios approached warily, and put a tentative hand on Helle's shoulder. "Helle, darling? I think it would be best if you stayed in bed for a few days. Your mother and I will take good care of - "

She surged upwards and grabbed the front of her father's shirt, pulling it sharply towards her so she could stare right into his frightened eyes. "I'm still waiting for the day when I'm going to have to _kill_ you, father."

"Helle!" screamed Ionna, slapping her daughter across the face. "Stop behaving like this!"

Helle immediately released her father and tumbled back onto the bed, clutching her stinging cheek. Slowly she pushed herself into a sitting position, and glared at her mother through dishevelled black hair. Ionna blinked and stepped back, wary of the intense loathing that lit up her daughter's new eerie yellow gaze. "…Helle?"

"I see you, mother," she hissed. "I see you with…no head." A wicked smile split her face. "Do you know what it means for someone to have no head, _mother?"_

Vlasis put a firm hand around Ionna's forearm and dragged her away from Helle's bedside. "Ionna, Athanasios, I think you might want to contact the priest."

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Athanasios. "She's just ill!"

"She's bleeding again, Athanasios!" howled Ionna, gesturing wildly at their child. "What's happening to her?"

Helle clapped a hand to her forehead as the skin forced itself open, fresh blood streaming down her already stained face. And suddenly her eyes darkened once more, and tears began to spill over. "Mama! Father! Why do I hurt?"

Vlasis and Athanasios stared at each other, bewildered.

Helle began to cry in earnest. "Mama, I'm bleeding!"

Tears of sympathy welled up in Ionna's large dark eyes. "Oh, my child!" Weeping bitterly, she drew closer, only to cry out and leap back as Helle jerked her head back and screamed.

"Vlasis, do something!" roared Athanasios as Helle fell backwards, back arched and screaming and thrashing.

The doctor grabbed Ionna and shoved her at her husband, where she collapsed sobbing onto his shoulder. Desperately Vlasis tried to hold Helle down as she threw herself about, crying out in agony. "It hurts, oh mama, it hurts!"

Feverishly Vlasis tore his briefcase open and began sifting through the contents, eventually extracting a long needle and a small bottle of clear liquid. After a moment's difficulty he succeeded in injecting the substance directly into Helle's arm. For a few tense minutes she continued to writhe and scream, and then gradually calmed down.

There was a silence, broken only by Ionna's frightened sobbing.

Vlasis gingerly leaned over and moved the hair off Helle's damp forehead. His eyes bulged with astonishment. "I've…never seen anything like this before."

The cuts were gone, leaving only a faint bruising that stood out starkly against Helle's pale and clammy skin. He ran a finger over the largest bruise, an ugly purplish shape that hovered right in the middle of her forehead. Ionna and Athanasios watched in horrified anticipation as Vlasis frowned in confusion. "This…this is…"

"What's happening to her, doctor?" whimpered Ionna.

Vlasis stood up and brushed himself down. "I really think you should call the priest, Athanasios," he said seriously, and glanced back once more at Helle's unconscious figure. Glanced back at the shadow of a cross that lingered on her brow.


	3. For the family

The changes came slowly after that. Ionna and Athanasios spent many a sleepless night at Helle's bedside, trying desperately to calm their daughter down as she struggled and screamed under the covers, crying out against the intense pain she claimed to be feeling. Vlasis had examined her, tried over ten different types of medication, studied her diet and even spoke to several specialists, but was still at a loss as to what was troubling Helle. The most baffling symptom was the recurring marks that kept inexplicably appearing on her forehead, at times bleeding profusely and at others reduced to nothing more than the faintest of bruises.

The months passed, Helle turned eleven, and she still was no better than before. Her parents tried their hardest to continue as normal, to pretend that she was going to get better very soon, but if anything, she got worse. Eventually Athanasios was forced to accept that his daughter was now bedridden, and he decided to sell their other home back in Greece. They got a lot less money for it than he would have liked, but with the increasingly expensive bills for Helle's treatments piling up, he had little choice. Over the next six months he watched in dismay as the family funds began to gradually trickle away to feed the growing monster that was Helle's affliction.

Athanasios knew the whole experience had unsettled Ionna terribly. There were days when she refused to leave Helle's bedside, instead pricking herself with clumsy sewing as she watched Helle sleep, but there were also days when Ionna couldn't even bear to be in the same room, and would retire to the garden, weeping into a handkerchief. This generally happened when the bleeding was at its worst. At first Athanasios had assumed it was because his wife felt faint at the sight of blood, but he soon discovered the truth.

Ionna rocked back and forth on the garden bench, pressing a white cloth to her mouth, large damp eyes staring blankly out at the dead and dying garden - Athanasios had been forced to dismiss the gardener to pay for Helle's medical bills. He nervously put a hand on Ionna's trembling shoulder.

"Do you remember what Vlasis said?" she whispered through the soft white material. "Athanasios? Remember?"

"What about?" he asked cautiously.

"When Helle first fell ill. He recommended the priest, Athanasios."

Athanasios frowned. Ionna had brought this up several times before, and he often tried to evade the question, or change the subject. "Well. That won't make our child better."

"It may," she breathed. "Athanasios, you are ignoring what's right before your eyes. Those horrible marks on her forehead…they're the same every time…"

Swallowing, Athanasios removed his hand from his wife. He searched for something to say, determined to reassure her somehow. He failed.

Ionna seized the front of his shirt. "Athanasios, please call the priest! I'm begging you! Those marks…they're unnatural! They're…they look like crosses…"

"It doesn't mean anything," snapped Athanasios. "Ionna, you mustn't believe in stupid superstitions and rubbish like this."

"Stigmata!" screamed Ionna, leaping to her feet. "I'm telling you Athanasios, there's something terrible happening to her, and no doctor is ever going to save her!"

"Ionna!" shouted Athanasios, grabbing her wrist. "I don't want to hear you talking like this! Helle is sick! Nothing more!"

She flinched away from him, the handkerchief fluttering to the dusty ground. Tears continued to pour down her prematurely lined face. "Please, Athanasios…" Her voice became frail and weak.

Feeling slightly shocked at his outburst, Athanasios released her wrist and turned away, staring hard at the dried remains of what had once been an aloe plant. Between gritted teeth, he finally said, "All right, my darling. I'll call the priest next week."

Ionna opened her mouth to protest, to demand that he call sooner, but Athanasios spoke with a tone that invited no argument. Reluctantly she concurred, and limped back towards the house.

Athanasios watched her go, concern creasing his brow.

***

"My beautiful, beautiful tool…" crooned the Millennium Earl, adjusting the tie of a tall and lanky man who was so old and withered that his face appeared to crumple in on itself behind an explosion of a white moustache. His eyes gleamed black out of the flickering candlelight and gazed blankly ahead. A single pentacle dominated his wrinkled brow.

Over the back of an enormous plush armchair, Road Kamelot watched the Earl brush the shoulders of the akuma off and smile proudly at it. Carefully he turned it around several times, and then nodded appreciatively. "It is good."

"Who's this one going to kill?" asked Road curiously.

"No one, Road," the Earl told her, without turning around. "This one is going to be assigned to _protect_."

Road was silent for a while, playing absented-mindedly with the ribbon fastened in her hair. "Who?"

The Earl lowered his hands from the akuma, and nodded at it, watching it shuffle obediently out of the room. He turned to Road, smiling fondly. "Road, haven't you always wanted a sister?"

Road opened her mouth to veto this, and then caught the Earl's gaze. She closed her mouth and allowed a smile to embellish her lips. "I'm to have a new sibling?"

"Ooh, I'm so excited!" laughed the Earl, clapping his hands. "It's been so long!"

"I was beginning to wonder if she'd ever show up…" admitted Road, nibbling on one painted nail. "She certainly took her time choosing a new host."

"Yes, well. That's _Enochi_, is it not?"

Road's grin widened considerably. "You haven't called her that for a long time."

"It is a shame that we've let old traditions die," admitted the Earl. "Maybe we should start calling your uncle _Joyd_ once more."

"Nooo!" whined Road, leaping over the back of the chair and skipping over to the Earl's side. "Tyki sounds soooo much better for him!"

"We'll let him decide for himself, won't we?" sighed the Earl, bending down and swinging her high in his arms, causing Road to squeal with laughter as he set her on his hat. "Let's go pay him a visit, see how your siblings are doing, yes?"

"Bleah," she pouted, clinging to the black cylinder of his iconic top hat, fiddling with the complicated structure of ribbon he was wearing around the brim today.

"Now Road," the Earl reprimanded her. "It's important to keep up family relations, is it not?"

"Booooring," she giggled, but allowed him to ferry her away down a darkened corridor, dotted along its length by ominous-looking polished black doors.

Almost immediately, the Earl stopped outside the nearest one, and rapped smartly on the smooth shiny surface with his knuckles. A moment later, the door creaked open to reveal a pale-skinned akuma woman clad in a maid's outfit, a star gleaming on her forehead. She bowed to the Earl.

"How are the new children doing?" he enquired, allowing her to lead him into the room.

"Same as ever, my Creator," she said blankly, returning to her post beside a large circular bed. As the Earl made his way over, he was forced to step carefully over the shredded and disembowelled remains of several silk pillows. The floor was ankle deep in goosedown. Curiously Road peered around his hat at the bed, which was draped with a dark purple sheet that was violently twisted and torn in places, hanging dejectedly off the round bed frame.

Somewhere in the middle of it all was a vague sort of lump that moved slowly up and down. Sitting cross-legged beside it was a skinny, underfed little boy, barely thirteen years old. At the Earl's approach, he tore his eyes away from the heap in front of him and rested large, sunken eyes on the strange-looking man and the dark-haired girl sitting comfortably on his hat and smiling down at him.

"Hasn't he been eating?" asked the Earl interestedly, fascinated by the way the boy flinched back when he simply raised one hand.

The akuma very slowly shook its head. "No, my Creator. Not for five days."

Very carefully the Earl sat himself down in a hard wooden-backed chair with a creak and leaned forward to scrutinize the boy further. By way of a reply, the boy shrank back slightly and stared back with mistrust written all over his pale face.

"Why have you not been eating, my child?" said the Earl softly.

The boy said nothing. He merely stared out from under his untidy dark hair.

"Hey, wh - "

"Shh, Road," scolded the Earl. "I will deal with this." She fell in a sullen silence, and watched as the Earl patted the duvet. Immediately the boy hissed like a cat and surged forwards to slap his hands away, glaring up at him with golden eyes.

The Earl withdrew his hand quickly. "All right, all right," he soothed. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong? I'm here to help you."

After a moment's hesitation, the boy retreated back again and sat crouched on the blanket, glaring suspiciously. As he frowned, the dried blood clinging to his brow crumpled and creased with his skin. The akuma maid drifted closer, brandishing a damp sponge. "Would you like me to wash - "

The Earl waved an impatient hand. "No, just stay back, _please_. I will deal with this on my own."

The boy raised a hand and began furiously rubbing his forehead, smearing the worst of the blood away to reveal the dark criss-crossing lines of stigmata underneath his unkempt black bangs. The Earl leaned over and very firmly pulled his skinny wrist down. "Stop that, my dear."

"Let go of me," snarled the boy at last, his voice hoarse and cracked from lack of use.

"Oh, it talks!" giggled Road.

"I'm sorry," smiled the Earl. "I only want to help you, David."

"Then let me go," he cried, drawing his bony knees up to his chest. "Me and Jas. Let us go home."

"I don't want to be cruel, my boy, but this is your home now." The Earl gripped the duvet once more, and David leapt at him, sinking his teeth into the Earl's chubby arm.

"Now now, none of that," chided the Earl, gently prising David off him. "I only want to check on your brother."

"Don't touch him!" yelled David, struggling as the Earl dragged him off by the back of his shirt. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

"Shush," the Earl told him, and began disentangling the blankets. The lump shifted slightly, but didn't make a sound. Eventually the Earl managed to lift the entire duvet up, revealing a frail-looking boy curled up tight underneath. He raised his head weakly, wavy blonde hair falling around his face to stop just past his shoulders, and turned to stare up at the Earl.

"How interesting!" exclaimed Road, leaning forwards so as to get a better view.

Jasdero's face was gaunt and his limbs emaciated with poor health; as he pushed himself into a sitting position his bony arms trembled with the effort. His expression was near impossible to read under the ruined flesh of what had once been his mouth, crusted and stained with blackened blood and scabs that clung disgustingly to the threads woven badly through the wounds.

"What happened to you?" asked Road inquisitively, pointing at the mess.

Immediately Jasdero screwed his eyes up in anguish and he drew the covers up to his face to hide his gruesome disfigurement, tears streaming down his already stained face to soak into the material.

"Oh Road, look what you've done," sighed the Earl. "Now now, don't cry…"

He leaned forward once more but David flew at him, suddenly all fists and fury. Surprised, the Earl pushed him back and held him at arm's length, staring at the child's filthy, furious face and ferocious expression. His own face softened into an amused smile. "Well, all right. I won't touch him."

But David's wary glare did not leave him as the Earl set the boy back down, and he immediately scooted backwards to Jasdero's side. There was a silence filled only by Jasdero's tearful sobbing in which David and the Earl stared at each other, David distrustfully and the Earl curiously.

Jasdero's sniffles subsided into unhappy hiccups, and the occasional whimper. He finally lowered the duvet - apparently unaware that he was doing so - and pressed a hand to his forehead, staring down at the blood now coating his fingertips.

Right in front of them all, he began to giggle.

David's face crumpled at the sound and he pulled the covers over his head, as though he couldn't bear to listen.

Jasdero's laughter increased in volume, and as it did so his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed backwards onto the bed, shoulders heaving as he screamed with laughter.

The Earl sighed and got to his feet, Road squealing as his hat pitched forward and she nearly slipped off. "Carefully, Millennie!"

"What a disappointment," lamented the Earl. "They haven't changed since I last saw them." He pointed at the akuma, who bowed. "Let me know as soon as their skin starts to turn."

"Yes, Lord Millennium."

As the Earl backed carefully out of the bedroom door, he nearly walked right into a second akuma, this one clad in an expensive butler's suit. It had its white gloved hands on the slumped shoulders of Tyki Mikk, who trembled uncontrollably under a thin white blanket that hung limply off his feeble form.

Road flung herself at Tyki, despite the Earl's protests, and clung lovingly to his thin grey neck. "Heya Tyki!"

"Road, stop that," snapped the Earl, lifting her firmly off Tyki. "He's still fragile, I don't want you hurting him."

"Sorry…" she giggled. "How are you, Tyki?"

He smiled faintly at her, his skin already ashen and grey, dark circles hanging under his exhausted eyes. "Tired…"

"I'm proud of you, _Joyd_," smiled the Earl, his hand resting on Road's spiky dark head. "It's good to have you back again. Your brother missed you terribly."

"Don't call me that," he groaned, drawing his towel more tightly around himself. "I'm still Tyki." He closed his eyes briefly and swayed where he stood, causing the akuma to tighten its grip on him, holding him up straight. Tyki bowed his head in exhaustion, his unwashed black hair falling over the fresh stigmata spread across his forehead.

The Earl waved a lazy hand at the akuma butler. "Poor thing. Take him away, let him rest. We'll put him to work tomorrow."

"How's the new Noah doing?" asked Tyki over his shoulder as he was steered away. "_Bondomu?_"

"What an excellent memory, my child," beamed the Earl proudly. "_Bondomu_ is coming on slowly at the moment."

"It's been nearly four months now," sighed Tyki. "How _long_ is it going to take?"

"Now Tyki, be fair," said the Earl reprovingly. "You remember how painful your transformation was. Give the children time."

Road cuddled against the Earl's arm and waved cheerily at her uncle as he disappeared into another side door. He smiled back briefly, and then the door swung shut with a click.

The Earl ran a contemplative hand over one chin. "Four months…I only hope _Enochi_ doesn't take this long."

As he mused silently to himself, Road let her hand slip off of him and she skipped ahead, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I hope so too…" She dug several wrapped candies from her pocket and stuffed a handful in her mouth, sucking on them contentedly. "Hurry up, my sister," she mumbled.

Gently the Earl placed his hand on the small of her back and steered Road out the front door. "Don't be too disappointed if she takes a while. I imagine she's still feeling terribly guilty…"

Road laughed at that, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep the sweets in. "Very funny, Millennie."

***

"Well?" breathed Ionna, gazing hopefully up at her husband. Wearily, he nodded, and removed her tense hands from his shoulders. "I called Alexis. He'll be here next week."

"Next week?" cried Ionna. "Helle needs a priest now!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ionna," snapped Athanasios. "I'm lucky to have got hold of him at all. Don't you know he lost his wife recently?" He turned away, to hide the frustration and irritation his aging face betrayed. "Alexis has been bedridden for months, Ionna. No one's seen him since, but he told me he's been feeling much better and is happy to help us."

"All right, Athanasios," mumbled Ionna, sinking into an armchair. "I only hope it's not too late for our child."

"I'm tired of telling you, Ionna, Helle is not possessed!" snapped Athanasios. "I don't know where you get these ridiculous ideas!"

"Athanasios, for god's sake, her eyes change colour! She has the lord's crosses carved into her skin! She has visions, and speaks with someone else's voice! It can't just be a regular illness! It's been going on for nearly a year now!"

Athanasios sighed heavily and pressed a hand to his eyes. Watching Helle turn eleven, while screaming and bleeding in bed, had been extremely hard for him. When was he going to get his little girl back?

In his heart of hearts, Athanasios didn't believe that he ever was. At first Helle's odd moments of dubious personality were few and far between, but gradually they had become more and more frequent until she often went whole days speaking and behaving as though she were another person.

He didn't like it. Ionna, with the determined and often pitifully short-sighted love of a mother, claimed that she could still sense her own little Helle somewhere underneath, that Helle was still Helle and that one day she'd sit up and apologise for the whole thing.

Although he'd rather die that admit it to his distraught wife, Athanasios did not believe this. Helle had changed, and he didn't know how, why or what into. Sometimes he would try and talk to her, but the truth was that she simply frightened him too much. He would sit there, awkwardly staring at his hands, trying to make some sort of conversation, and she'd say simply nothing.

Then again, there had been that incident last week…

Helle had sat silently in her bed, watching him as usual. Nervously Athanasios glanced up occasionally, apprehensive about meeting her now permanently yellow eyes.

"Helle, please talk to me. Please. Tell me you still recognise me."

She blinked, but didn't reply.

"You've been worrying your mother and I terribly." He leaned forwards and tried to gently touch her hand, but she snatched it away, and shuffled back a few inches. "_Please_ Helle…Answer me…It's me, your father."

When Helle spoke, it was so sudden that Athanasios jumped.

"You…" she said, very deliberately. "Are not my father."

"Of course I am," Athanasios murmured sadly. "Helle, you don't know what you're saying."

"Do not patronize me," she snapped, again in a voice that appeared several years too mature for her. "I know more than you could ever know. I've seen…seen so _much_…" Suddenly she pitched forwards, her fingers pressed into her scalp. "So much!"

"Helle, what have you seen?" Athanasios asked nervously, wanting to reach out to her once more, but still frightened of her strangely hostile expression. "Nightmares?"

She gave a tiny, slightly maniacal laugh. "Nightmares?" she repeated. "Ha! Don't be pathetic, 'father'." Slowly she raised her head, and lowered her hands. "Your tiny human mind can't even begin to comprehend what I've seen."

"What are you talking about, Helle?" demanded Athanasios. "What do you mean, 'human mind'?"

"Why won't you let me be?" she cried, burying her face in the covers. "Oh, Noah!"

Athanasios half stood-up, uncertain as to whether she was talking to him or not. "Helle? Shall I…uh…leave now?"

"Every day," she sobbed, her voice muffled by the blanket. "Every _single _minute of every _single _day, I see people, I see them dying, I see them suffering…"

Her head shot up, and her expression was ferocious and wild. "I see _everything_ Noah has ever done."

"Noah?" asked Athanasios nervously, swallowing. "Who's Noah?"

"Ah, but it hurts!" she continued miserably, apparently unaware that her father had spoken. "It burns me up! All that Noah has done, and will do." She beat her fists against the wall and began to wail, the wounds bursting open on her forehead once more. "Oh Noah! What have you _done?"_

As quickly as he could, Athanasios scurried from the room, and leant against the closed door for a moment, breathing hard with his eyes shut. Behind him he could hear the screaming and pounding continuing as his daughter howled like one possessed.

***

Helle dreamed again that night.

She dreamed every night now, always the same, always frightening and horribly disturbing.

What was different tonight was that she dreamed of a familiar face.

It smiled at her, with obscenely large white teeth and glinting circular spectacles. The creature extended a hand to her, and she found herself taking it without hesitating, allowing him to lead her through the wastelands of her dreams.

As they walked hand-in-hand, Helle said, "Who am I?"

He chuckled to himself. "An interesting question. 'Who am I?' You don't begin by asking who _I _am - you care only for yourself."

Helle frowned at this, wondering if she'd just been insulted.

"But to answer your query, you are Helle Anatolia. Daughter of Athanasios Anatolia and - "

"That's not what I meant."

The hand twitched slightly in her own, and the person's terrifying grin widened. After a silence he spoke once more. "You are Helle Anatolia."

She waited.

He said nothing more.

"…And?" she asked frantically, tightening her grip on his hand. "What else?"

"Why do you need me to tell you who you are?"

"Because I don't know. Not any more."

"You are Helle Anatolia."

She held her breath.

"Daughter of Noah."

"Noah?"

"Oh, yes."

She stared around her, at the blackened landscape and distraught figures that lurched through the smog. "The man who did all of this?"

"Oh, let's not unearth the past, dear child."

"Tell me."

"Perhaps," he grinned, squeezing her hand gently. "Watch the puddles, my dear."

Quickly she glanced down, and stepped gingerly over a pool of some thick dark liquid. Her stomach creased in disgust at the stench.

"Why is this happening?" she demanded of her companion.

"Still so _human_," breathed the voice, almost to itself. "I can see you're not quite a Noah yet. Still…it's only a matter of time. And you, _Enochi_, did always like to make an impression."

The word tugged tantalizingly at Helle's memory. "_E-Enochi_?" She closed her eyes, and nearly tripped on an ill-placed rock. "Did you just call me…_Enochi?"_

"Remembering anything yet?" he smiled down at her. "I suppose it's been a while for you."

"I don't understand."

"Oh, you will in time. Oh, dear…" The person came to an abrupt halt, and Helle stopped with him, squinting ahead. "What is it?"

A woman staggered towards them, hands reaching out pleadingly. Helle cried out and shrank back; the woman's eyes were cadaverous and oozing pus. She groaned miserably and collapsed at their feet, choking painfully in her own slime.

The voice giggled as Helle flinched backwards in fright. "Don't worry child. They can't hurt you."

"You're lying!"

"Why would I lie to you? They're merely images, imprints on Noah's memory."

A man surged out of the gloom, wringing his hands in agony. "Elisavet! Oh, my Elisavet!" He sank to his knees next to the sick woman and pulled her into his chest. "No! No!"

Helle watched, aghast, as tears began to cascade down his wrinkled face into his enormous white moustache. "I know him."

"Do you, my dear?"

"He lead our church services, many years ago."

"Poor Alexis. Couldn't afford to pay for his wife's medicine…"

Alexis roared with pain, cradling his wife's corpse in his arms and sobbing uncontrollably into her cold shoulder. "Elisavet!"

Suddenly Helle jumped as her companion abruptly let her hand fall, and plodded from her side to Alexis. She watched in horrified fascination as the mysterious portly figure crouched next to the distrait old man and patted his shoulder consolingly, although his wide grin was anything but.

"I can bring her back."

Alexis seized the person's jacket. "Really? You can do that?"

"Of course I can. You're a holy man. You deserve god's divine blessing." The stocky creature produced a skeleton of a shimmering metallic material and cradled its lifeless forms in his chubby arms. "She can live again in a new body. All I need is a little cooperation from you…"

"Anything! Anything at all!"

"Alas, she is soulless and voiceless. Lend her your voice. Give it to me, and your Elisavet will speak again…"

The image shimmered and wavered oddly, and in the middle of it all the top-hatted creature turned and looked directly at Helle. "And of course, he did."

"Did what?"

The skeleton jerked and screamed, and flung itself to its feet. "Alexis! What have you…what have you _done_ to me?"

"Elisavet?" cried the man, bewildered. "Elisavet!"

"Now…kill him. Kill him, and wear his skin."

Helle closed her eyes, but she still heard the spine-tingling snap of bone, and the disgusting tearing, slurping sound as the skeleton slid into the man's gaping jaw.

When she opened them again, Alexis was swaying on his feet, his eyes blank and soulless.

Her companion was at her side once more, grinning happily.

She scowled at him. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Oh, just a bit of fun. And besides, it's your duty to the family."

"My…duty?"

"You bear Noah's memory, my child. All of this…these dreams, these visions, they are a part of it. Noah felt no remorse for his crimes, his akuma, the wars and pain he brought on people. He withdrew from his penitence and preserved it as a memory."

"What?"

"Much like he did with his Dreams. A monster cannot afford to Dream. Or his Bond. He cut himself off from everyone he'd ever been close to. Or…" The odd character's lip curled in amusement. "His Pleasure."

"What are you saying?"

He paused, and turned to face her. As Helle stared up at him, he gently took her face in his strange hands and smiled down at her, tears - real, genuine tears - pouring down his face behind his glasses. "You are the bearer of Noah's Guilt, Helle. Everything he has ever done, that any one of his family has ever done, that any Noah since has done, you must remember. For the family."

"Why?" She sounded pathetic and childlike, and hated herself for it.

"Because someone must," he said, simply and firmly. "Someone has to feel the sin that Noah commits, and bear the shame that none of us would otherwise feel."

"I don't want to," she said, equally firmly. "I don't care about the rest of you. I don't even know who you are."

"I'm afraid you have no choice, little human," he said sadly. "Within a few days you'll forget everything you ever were. You will become _Enochi, _Noah's Guilt. In fact…" He let her face go, and took her hands in his own. "You're almost there already."

Helle awoke with one hand in the air above her face, and she stared at out of the dark.

She sat bolt upright in bed, and turned her hands before her eyes, staring at the ashy grey skin.

Light flooded the room as someone threw the door open, and she screwed her eyes up and raised her arms to shield herself.

Athanasios stood silhouetted against the early morning daylight, and stared down at her. "Helle…I - " He swallowed and passed a hand over his eyes. "You…you're grey…"

"What do you want?"

Breathing deeply, Athanasios resolved to ignore her sudden change in colour and ask Vlasis about it later. Quickly, he stepped aside and glanced back at Helle. "There's someone here to see you."

"Who?"

"I…Your mother believes he can - help you."

"Good day, child."

Helle stared up at the impassive old man, who gazed blankly out from a wrinkled face above an explosion of a white moustache. He bowed to her.

Athanasios gestured to him. "Helle, this is Alexis."

**[A/N: in case it was unclear, _Enochi _is Helle's true Noah name.]**


	4. Goodbye mother, goodbye father

Helle stared at Alexis. He bowed once more.

"He's…he's a holy man, my dear," explained Athanasios a little nervously. He hovered awkwardly in the doorway, one hand resting on the handle as he gawped at what was once his daughter. Her yellowish eyes, always so disconcerting, were even more so set against her new dusky skin.

Helle stared vaguely up at the two men standing over her, and frowned slightly. "Who is this?"

"I…just said. He's called Alexis. Remember? We used to attend his church. Your…your mothe - I mean…well, Ionna thinks he can help you."

"Oh, really?" she sneered, a slight grin curling her lips. "How…amusing."

There was a silence, filled only by Athanasios' awkward coughing. "Well…Alexis, I have to go meet my lawyer. I hope you don't mind…"

Alexis nodded stiffly, his eyes remaining empty and blank. "Perfectly all right."

"Good…" Athanasios teetered tensely on the balls of his feet for a few more anxious seconds, his eyes flicking rapidly between his daughter and the priest. "I…Helle…"

She raised one eyebrow. "Yes?"

" - nothing…" The door swung closed behind him with a gentle click.

Helle moved her gaze to Alexis, and narrowed her eyes at him. He stared dully back, and then took a shaky step forwards.

"So. Where do you think you can succeed where so many have failed?"

Alexis shrugged, with a slow, listless movement.

Scowling at him, Helle raised her hand and pointed commandingly at him. "Answer me!"

Immediately Alexis spoke up. "I do not understand the question, Lady Helle."

She sat up straighter. "What did you call me?"

"Nothing, my Lady."

Frowning, Helle bit her lip and tapped her chin contemplatively. "I seem to remember you disappearing last year. Weren't you ill for a while?"

Alexis was silent.

"Answer me!"

"I do not understand the question, Lady Helle."

"And stop saying that!" she snapped, folding her arms.

"I apologise," he said, in that same odd monotonous voice, bowing stiffly. When he straightened up once more, he stood with his paper-skinned hands hanging limply by his sides, staring vacantly down at her. She frowned up at him, scrutinizing his empty eyes.

"Why does Athanasios think you can help me?"

He said nothing.

Helle threw the bedcovers back and swung her legs round to sit on the edge of the bed, bare grey feet swinging above the splintered wooden floorboards. "All right." She clasped her delicate hands on her knees and ran her tongue over her top lip, her scowl deepening. "All right. Fine then."

Alexis was silent.

"Easy question first." Assuming a rather thoughtful expression, she rested her chin in her hands and tilted her head to one side. "Why are you calling me 'Lady'?"

"I am showing respect, Lady Helle."

"And why is that?"

"No reason."

Helle sat up once more. "I want you to tell me the truth."

Alexis blinked for the first time, and bowed once more. "Very well."

"So I ask you again. Why are you showing me such respect?"

"I must be respectful of all Noah, my Lady."

Something squirmed in Helle's stomach at this, and she flinched slightly. There was that word again. "What's a Noah?"

"An apostle of the True God."

Taking a deep breath, Helle extended her hands before her and wiggled her fingers, staring at the smooth grey skin. Slowly she touched her own nose, and then abruptly lunged for a small hand mirror lying on the bedside table. Snatching it up, she thrust her face into it and took in her new complexion, running her trembling fingers over her cheeks. Her hair, now severely untidy and in need of a serious wash, hung limply either side of her face, baring her forehead to the world.

She shot a glance at Alexis. "What are these?" As she spoke, she indicated the crosses across her brow with the mirror.

"Stigmata, Lady Helle."

"Hm." Slowly she turned back to the mirror and stared at them hard for a good few minutes. "I recognise them. Is…is that…strange?"

"Not at all, my Lady."

Sighing, Helle laid the mirror aside and glowered once more at Alexis. She was beginning to get a little tired of this oddly empty man and his cryptic comments. "Who are you?"

"Alexis, my Lady."

"Is that your full name?" she enquired dryly, tossing her head irritably. Her plaits danced madly around her head. "Just Alexis?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"Oh don't be silly," she snapped, in the sort of tone one might expect from a frustrated schoolmistress. "You must have a surname."

"No."

"Wife?"

Alexis flinched, and a small animalistic whine escaped his lips as his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he swayed slightly. "E..Eh…Elisavet…"

Helle watched him closely for a few minutes, and then sighed heavily. "I can see I'm getting nowhere."

"Uh…" Alexis' odd moans subsided and he lowered his head slightly, dropping his empty gaze to the bare floor. "I must go, my Lady."

"Why?" she demanded immediately, leaping to her feet. "I need to know more!"

"I must got, my Lady."

"No!" Angrily she stamped one foot, her eyes darkening with childish rage. "Tell me! Tell me who I am!"

"Ahhh…" Alexis clutched helplessly at his face as the skin began to sag before Helle's horrified eyes, a strange purplish star forming on his wrinkled brow. She stepped backwards, and pointed at it with a trembling finger.

"What's that? What's happening?"

"I - must - _go_…" With surprising speed and agility for one so aged, Alexis spun on one heel and careened out of the door, his footsteps thundering down the corridor as he dashed away.

"No!" Furiously Helle charged after him, her bare feet slapping on the splintered floorboards and plaits flying behind her. Alexis reached the stairs and hurtled downwards, stumbling occasionally on the steps, until he reached the polished marble floor and the front door to freedom.

Athanasios was there, giving his farewells to the family lawyer, a smooth faced and dark haired young man wearing a neat linen suit. He looked up in shock as Alexis tore towards him, hands outstretched.

"A - Alexis? What the - " Athanasios stumbled backwards as the old man threw the lawyer into him with surprising force. He disappeared through the door, clutching his face in his withered hands.

Helle skidded to a halt on the doorstep and stared after him, the autumn air whipping through her hair. She clenched her jaw angrily and suddenly slammed the door shut so hard that its glass panes rattled in their frames.

Athanasios extended a trembling hand towards her nervously, and then withdrew. "Helle? What…what happened?"

She was silent for a moment, and then spun to face her once-father. "What's wrong with you?" she wailed into his face, brandishing her grey fists. "_Why_ didn't you stop him?"

"What are you talking about?" blustered Athanasios, shock making him defensive. "What did you _do_ to him?"

"He was my chance to find out what was happening!" wailed Helle, clutching her head and shaking it from side to side in anguish. "He knew, Athanasios! He knew!"

"Uh…" Behind Athanasios, his lawyer nervously raised a hand. "Mr. Anatolia? May I…uh…I think was leaving?"

"Yes, you were. I do apologise." Athanasios stepped aside and gestured to the door. He cast a faintly disgusted glance at his daughter, who had sunk to her knees and was moaning angrily to herself. "Helle, pull yourself together and get back into bed, now. I don't know what you did to Alexis, but I'm not standing for it! Do you hear me? I am not!"

Nervously the lawyer attempted to sidle past Helle so as to open the door, but she had chosen to kneel right on the doormat and showed now sign of moving. He coughed politely. "Miss? You…uh, I'd like to…leave, if I may?"

"He could have…told me…_everything!_" Helle screamed the last word at her father, her head shooting up to glare at him. As she did so, she staggered to her feet and pointed accusingly at him with a trembling finger. Somewhere in her heart she knew that none of this was Athanasios' fault, that no one could have prevented Alexis from escaping, but she nonetheless felt the need for a scapegoat, and it felt good to blame someone.

"Helle! You are making a scene! Get back upstairs!" bellowed Athanasios, pointing firmly to the ceiling. "I am not putting up with this any more! I don't believe you're sick! You stopped being ill a long time ago, didn't you? This is just…just bad behaviour!"

Helle laughed, with a high, mad laugh that caused her eyes to roll upwards madly. She tossed her head once more. "You humans really are so stupid! When are you going to understand, you silly little man? I'm _not you daughter_! Understand? Not any more!"

"I'll…just be going now…" The lawyer attempted to slip past Helle once more, but she shot an arm out, slamming into his chest with a powerful, commanding motion unbefitting a thirteen year-old girl. "Don't move! You are not to go anywhere until _I am finished!_"

"Be quiet, Helle! You are embarrassing me!" yelled Athanasios. "And stop being ridiculous! However much you may want to deny it, you are my daughter, and will behave as such!"

"Maybe _once_ I was your daughter," she snarled. "But that was long ago. She's gone, Athanasios. And I'm ready to take what is now my body!"

The lawyer cast a frightened glance at Athanasios, and signalled frantically that he wanted the door open. Athanasios didn't see; he was too busy glaring down at what he still believed to be his daughter.

Eventually the young lawyer's courage broke and he lunged forwards, briefcase swinging from one hand, and yanking furiously at the door lock with the other. Helle's arm shot out and she pointed at him. "I told you to _not move_!"

"What the - " He staggered backwards, staring down in horror as the tiny dark hole of the keyhole squirmed, and suddenly spewed a long thin skewer of black straight at him. It twisted like a thin snake and constricted around his forearm, crushing the sleeve of his suit and drawing his arm tight against the door, bending his wrist and crushing the back of his hand flat against the wooden surface. His mouth stretched wide in a horrified scream and his briefcase tumbled noisily to the floor as he thumped his other fist desperately against the door in an attempt to get it to release him. "What the hell is this? Get it off me!"

Athanasios' frightened gaze flicked between his fearful lawyer and the smiling, grey-skinned, golden-eyed girl that was no longer his daughter. She put her head to one side and grinned through the untidier chunks of hair that hung either side of her face.

"Helle! What are you doing? Stop it!" cried Athanasios, waving his arms in a panic as he tried to make sense of what was going on. "Helle!"

She ignored him completely, and merely raised on finger, watching the lawyer carefully. "What's interesting about becoming _Enochi_ is that I'm now able to see right into the depths of your souls. I can see every shameful sin you've ever committed…"

The lawyer turned a frightened and bloodless face to her, whimpering as his wrist emitted a nasty crack, sending tremors all up his arm. "It hurts…"

"Let's see…if I'm not mistaken, first there was that woman you testified against in court, am I right?" She tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself hugely. "Allowing her husband to win full custody of the house and children, despite the fact that _he _was responsible for all their monetary problems…" The shadow engorged and swelled, forming the grotesque silhouette of a long-haired woman, her mouth stretched wide in a howl of pain. The form surged upwards from the dark tendrils of shadow encircling the lawyer's arm and raised its hands high above his head.

"No!"

Helle raised a second finger. "Second. An old man, wasn't it? He wasn't very happy when you failed to win justice for his poor daughter. And all because you took that bribe…" A second shadow exploded from the keyhole, and again mutated horribly into a cruel imitation of a human profile. It too surged upwards to join the first, where they writhed and twisted in a cruel mockery of a tango.

"Stop it!" shrilled the lawyer desperately. "I didn't!"

"And the poor girl who couldn't afford to pay for the last few weeks of trial…you just left her, alone and helpless, didn't you?" A third raised finger, and a third screaming shadow. Helle sighed and rolled her eyes. "I could go on and on. You lawyers…such terrible crimes."

Athanasios took a trembling step back, his eyes wide and bulging as he fixed them on the bizarre sight unfolding before his eyes. The lawyer had collapsed weakly on the floor, one arm suspended comically above his head by the hand that was still held to the door, and the three vengeful shadows loomed over him, reaching towards his face with outstretched hands.

As the man screamed in terror, Athanasios threw away any more pretence of bravery and dived out of the hall into his study, slamming the door behind him and sinking to the floor, closing his eyes as he tried to pretend he hadn't seen anything.

Outside, Helle continued to watch, thoughtfully. "The thing about guilt, you see," she explained gently, as though trying to make the concept of 2+2 simple for a confused child. "Is that it never really leaves you. It gets under your skin - " The three silhouettes surged forward and congregated over the man's sweaty face, swarming over his mouth and eyes, disappearing under the eyelids, squirming up his nose and down his throat. "And stays there, eating away at you from the inside…"

Now that the shadows had taken refuge inside of him, the man's arm was finally released from the door, and he let it fall with a gasp of pain, the wrist now twisted and broken. He barely had time to reflect on this, however, before he was suddenly violently jerked backwards, and lay there whining, froth oozing from between his pallid lips.

"Until one day, you just can't contain it any more, and it just…consumes you _whole_." With this sentence, blood suddenly exploded from every orifice in the man's face - his eyes, his ears, his nose and mouth - and sprayed several feet in front of him. He pitched forward, screaming and pleading for help.

Coldly Helle watched him writhe and thrash in agony, his face muscles now appearing to try and fight each other for dominion, his cheeks squirming and his eyelids bulging. Eventually his skin could stand up to the pressure no longer, and the shadows burst forth once more in a horrific spray of gore and blood.

A warm red droplet flung itself at Helle's grey cheek, and its hot touch appeared to snap her out of her reverie. In silence she raised a trembling finger to touch her face and stared at the red smeared all over the tip, blinking rapidly. In her preoccupation she did not see the shadows of the deceased lawyer's guilt, leaking from his ruined body to slink across the floor to her bare ankles. They gathered themselves around them, encasing her feet in black, and curling up her calves. She glanced down, and nodded at them. "I know killing him wasn't the best way to satisfy you, but sometimes that all you can do."

The shadows of guilt paused, and then shrank down from her legs once more. She squatted down, and watched them curiously. "And what do I do with you now?"

They remained where they were, twisting and mutating in an agitated circle on the floor, the occasional brief form of the woman, or the old man, appearing for a second. Helle smiled and stretched both hands out to them, palms bent forward and wrists bared towards the shadows.

Athanasios peeked around the door of his study just in time to see the long tendrils of darkness disappear with a slithering, whip-like movement, into - he rubbed his eyes and blinked several times. Two identical, sharp-toothed mouths had appeared on Helle's thin little wrists, both hanging open and slathering all over her palms as the shadows were swallowed up. In a horrified trance Athanasios watched as the last of the darkness vanished into her wrists, and she stood up once more, staring down at the mouths.

He flung the door wide and started forward. "Helle! Oh my god, Helle! What's - what happened to - "

He caught sight of the lawyer.

He staggered back, clutching his chest. "Oh god…Helle! Did you…Did you - "

She turned to face him, and extended her wrists forward. In appalled disgust he stared down as the left mouth extended a long, pink tongue and swept it over Helle's palm, much like someone would lick their lips.

As he stared, she smiled. "Look at what I can do now, Athanasios! Look!"

"Get away from me…" he whispered, taking a shaky step backwards. "Get away! You…you murdered him! You're a monster!"

"But I'm learning, _father_!" she giggled, lowering her arms. "I'm getting much better at this! Watch!"

Despite his revulsion, Athanasios couldn't help but stare as Helle suddenly convulsed and clapped her hands to her head, a second set of mouths forcing themselves open on her upper arms. A fifth, larger mouth forced the skin of her neck open, grinning madly under her chin. She let her hands fall and flung her head back, screaming. As she did so, her hair suddenly appeared to explode from her skull, writhing outwards as though trying to escape. After a second the frantic movement calmed down and she turned her head back down to her father, her plaits drifting vaguely above her shoulders. What Athanasios had first taken for loose strands of hair were actually the shadows of guilt, he realised, moving through Helle's hair to hide themselves in the twists of her braids.

"See?" she shouted suddenly. "See what I can do now? Are you proud of me, father? Are you?"

"What the hell _are_ you?" he screamed, backing into his study door and scrabbling wildly for the handle.

"I'm Guilt," she cried. "All-consuming, never-ending, life-destroying _Guilt_!" She pointed above her father's head. "And look what else I can do!"

"What the - " Athanasios tore his gaze away from Helle to stare at the door behind him as it shuddered and vibrated in its frame, the wood rippling impossible. Before his horrified eyes the wood gave a terrific splintering creak, and wrenched in two across the middle as - as _another_ mouth, far bigger than anything he'd seen on Helle, spread its teeth wide and lolled its tongue over him.

"I don't know if you heard me, as you were cowering in your study like a little boy," she said, stopping in front of him. "But I mentioned that guilt can be very dangerous. It's a terribly _hungry_ emotion." The door fastened its jaws around Athanasios' left arm and he screamed as it crunched down hard, crushing bone and muscle. "It simply…_eats you all up_."

Athanasios had time to cast one terrified look over his shoulder at his awaiting fate, and found himself face-to-face with a seemingly endless tunnel of darkness that extended improbably beyond the waiting jaws of his study door. He let out one last desperate scream, and the jaws pulled him.

Helle closed her eyes and listened to the sucking and cracking of bone as the mouth devoured him whole.

***

Ionna lifted her head from the pillow and glanced nervously at the bedroom door. She wasn't _quite _sure but, she could have sworn she'd just heard a scream.

Now that the family no longer owned multiple houses, and Athanasios' company was failing rapidly due to the need to fulfil Helle's medical bills, there was little reason for them to become a target of thieves and criminals. But Ionna was by nature a fretful person, and she flung the covers back, sliding out of bed with a vaguely worried expression.

Sliding her house slippers on, Ionna tiptoed to the top of the stairs and cocked her head to one side, listening intently. "Athanasios? Is everything okay?"

"Mama?"

Ionna's heart skipped a beat. She descended onto the fist step. "Helle?"

"Where are you, mama?"

"I - I was taking an afternoon nap, Helle…What's going on?"

As Ionna stepped off the bottom step, she drew her shawl more firmly around herself and stared ahead at Helle, who was standing all alone by the closed front door. The hall was otherwise completely empty and still.

"Helle! You're…you - " Tears of joy began streaming down Ionna's face. "You're all right! You're out of bed!" She ran forward, her dress streaming out behind her, hands outstretched to her daughter. Helle smiled faintly at her mother, her skin pale against her dark, limp hair. "Yes…"

Ionna clasped Helle to her, stroking the top of her head and crying gently. After a moment, she raised her face and stared around. "Where's your father?"

"I don't know," she murmured, smiling under Ionna's arm. "He must have gone out…"

Finally Ionna released her daughter and passed a worried hand through her greying hair. "But he would have told me."

"I don't know," said Helle, taking her mother's hand. "I'm hungry. Let's go have something to eat."

"No darling, wait," said Ionna softly, taking a step towards the study door. "I want to speak to your father."

Something flashed in Helle's dark eyes, and she scowled very slightly. "I'm _hungry_, mother," she said with a bite of impatience. "Forget Athanasios."

Ionna turned back to Helle and stared down at her in some surprise. "Did you just call your father by his first name?"

Helle coughed and assumed a broad smile. "I'm sorry, mother. I spoke out of turn. _Father_'s fine."

"Then where is he?"

"Oh for goodness' sake!" she snarled, shoving Ionna away and placing her hands on her hips. "You humans are so _irritating_!"

Ionna swallowed. "Helle, what…"

"I killed him, all right?" she snapped, spinning around to face Ionna. Before her mother's frightened eyes, her skin darkened several shades, her eyes flashed gold and her slender plaits slowly curved upwards.

"No…"

"Yes, I did," she sighed, touching her forehead briefly. "A pity…he was a clever man. You married well, Ionna."

"Stop being silly, Helle!" cried Ionna, pressing her hands to her breast. "Where is he?"

Ignoring her, Helle pushed past to a small closet standing just off the hallway, and wrenched the door open. As Ionna watched, she thrust her arm in and yanked out an expensive-looking jacket. She pulled it on with a flourish and then bend down to lace a delicate pair of white shoes.

"H-Helle?" asked Ionna shakily. "What…what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," she snapped irritably, straightening up and looking Ionna straight in the eye. "I'm tired of waiting here, waiting for what I want to come to _me_. I'm going to find my family."

"But…we're your family," whispered Ionna, watching Helle pull the front door open.

She turned around, and fixed her mother with her golden eyes. "You were. Not any more."

"Helle…no…Helle!" Ionna cried out her daughter's name and charged forward, hands outstretched. "Don't leave me!"

"You can't come with me, Ionna," muttered Helle, glancing over her shoulder. "You've got too many regrets festering in that house of yours…"

Ionna stumbled, and fell flat on her face. She cast a frightened look over her shoulder to see several long snakes of shadow entwined around her calves, and still more were creeping across the darkening floor, searching hungrily for her feet.

"Your guilt doesn't want you leaving," called Helle as she walked away.

"Helle! No!" Ionna clutched desperately at the doorstep, scrabbling for a hold as the shadows dragged her back, back, back into the house.

The door slammed shut behind her, blocking her white, horrified face out of Helle's life forever.

Smiling to herself as she walked, Helle ran a finger over her smooth neck, remembering with satisfaction the look of horror plastered over Athanasios' face.

As she walked, the shadows of the street gathered about her feet, staining the white of her shoes black.

Helle Anatolia walked away from her old life as the guilts of ordinary people clung to her ankles, suddenly unaware as to what do now that they suddenly found themselves sentient and capable of movement. Emotions were not supposed to exist outside of the brain; they belonged inside a person's head, locked away beneath their impenetrable skull, but Helle had a way of tapping into a person's innermost guilty feelings, of drawing them out and making them real.

And of course, with guilt there always came the terrible _hunger_. The desire to consume _everything_, as shame was wont to do. As she lifted her feet with every step, the shadows remained briefly, clinging to the cobbled street in a dark imitation of a footprint. Then the stone would split open in a widely grinning mouth, and the shadow was swallowed whole.

When the last of them was finally gone, Helle smiled to herself and quickened her pace. "Now I can finally get a bit of a break…"

She walked on, alone.

High, high above, the enormous bloated form of an akuma hovered just under the crescent moon, its cannons shining in the light.

Tyki Mikk stood on its shoulders, his face fresh and young once more, his hair swept back tidily and his suit crisp and impeccable. Thoughtfully he watched the ant-like figure of Helle as she strode down the road, easily discernable against the dark stone by her white dress. With one deft movement he flipped his top hat from one hand to the other and then placed it over his dark hair.

He rapped his gloved knuckles smartly on the akuma's head. "Let's go home."

It sighed slightly and turned heavily in the air. Tyki closed his eyes as the wind whipped over his face. "Better let the Earl know that Helle's on her way."


	5. Skin and Lulu

"I say, move aside!"

Helle glanced over one shoulder, and suddenly leaped to the left, staring at the wall of sweaty horse flanks and jingling harness that rushed before her startled eyes. The carriage driver shot her a furious glare as he sped past, eyes glinting under his cap. "Watch where you're going!"

The thick velvet curtains of the coach were pulled open, and Helle found herself staring at a pasty-faced, rather plump woman with light grey hair, who passed by in a blur of motion.

Inside, the elderly woman gave a squeal of surprise, and leaned forward to rap insistently on the window separating her from the carriage driver with her gloved knuckles. "Carlson! Carlson! Stop, immediately! Quickly! That was the Anatolia girl!"

Instantly Carlson snapped the reins, causing the dapple grey animal to whinny in alarm and skid to a halt. It flung its head back, nostrils flared and eyes rolling as it shook the leathery harnesses with a jingle of metal rings. Carlson pulled his hat more firmly over his dark hair and leapt out of his seat, landing nimbly beside the carriage door and yanked it open. His employer practically tumbled down the small wooden steps in a rush of petticoats and heavy fur stole.

Suspiciously Helle watched, as the woman touched her grey hair and adjusted the limp dead fox that hung around her neck slightly. Satisfied that she was tidy and presentable, she gathered her skirts up fussily and bustled down the cobbled street to where Helle was standing alone, looking almost ghostly in her pale skin and white chiffon dress.

"Helle? It is Helle, isn't it?" cried the woman in delight, bending down to bring herself down to Helle's eye-level. "You're Athanasios' child! How is he? How is Ionna? Is she keeping well?"

Assuming a friendly smile, Helle privately wondered who on earth this irritatingly self-important woman was. "Yes, that's right. Ion - I mean, Mother is keeping well. She - she and Father decided to go away for a while. They've…travelled back to the mainland. Relatives in Athens, you see."

"Ah, how lovely!" the woman twittered, her lipsticked mouth spreading wide in a smile that was more like a grimace. "I haven't seen Athanasios or Ionna for so long…haven't you been ill, my dear?"

"Uh…yes, I was," agreed Helle, desperately searching her host's memories for this woman's name. "But I'm better now."

"Yes, you're looking healthy," she replied vaguely, frowning suddenly. "But why are you out here all alone? Shouldn't you be with your parents?"

"No, they're in Athens."

"But they would have taken you with them, surely?"

"Oh…no…I…"

The woman's powdered forehead creased with concern. "Are you all right, my child? I'm heading home, shall I take you with me? If you have the address of your parents' place in Athens, I could put you on a train there tomorrow…"

"No, I - I'm staying. Here, in Samothrace with my father's friend - with Alexis," Helle added, in a sudden burst of inspiration.

"Ooh, Alexis? The pastor? I'd heard that he'd moved away…Is he back?"

"Well, I…" Helle could feel her rather fake smile slipping slightly as she searched desperately for more answers to this insufferable woman's never ending nosiness. She briefly considered simply killing her, and the coachman Carlson as well, but the street was well-lit with gas lamps, and several of the house windows were softly illuminated by candlelight. Thirty feet down the road, Helle could just make out the shadowy figure of a policeman on his rounds, staring vaguely into a darkened shop window. No, it would be too messy and too much trouble to simply remove them here.

"It is getting late, Mrs. Paules," interrupted Carlson, glancing around in agitation. "I wouldn't recommend us waiting around like this…your husband is expecting you."

"But Carlson, we can't leave darling Helle like this," scolded Mrs. Paules, wringing her hands. After a moment's hard thinking, she appeared to come to a decision. "Very well then…Helle, my dear, come with me. You may come and have dinner with my husband and I, and in the morning I can call a cab to take you to the train station."

"No, I don't - " Helle clenched her teeth, feeling her frustrations building. This was _not_ what she wanted. She didn't need this infuriating woman meddling in her affairs.

As the only child of such a rich and successful man as Athanasios, Helle had grown up typically spoiled. Even before becoming bedridden, Helle had found her every need catered to; maids and servants at her call, and love and attention showered upon her from both parents. As a result, she was not used to dealing with difficult situations on her own. In her own personal, selfish experience, the world adjusted itself to suit _her_, to mould itself to how _she_ wanted. So to find the circumstances slipping out of her control was a new and vexing experience.

"Come, child, I will keep you safe," beamed Mrs. Paules, evidently delighted at her own goodwill.

Before Helle could make one more attempt at dismissing the offered help, a heavy hand closed on her thin shoulder, and a gruff voice spoke from somewhere above her.

"Miss Anatolia is with me."

Mrs. Paules looked very taken aback indeed, and she cast a confused glance towards Carlson, who merely shrugged uselessly. Blinking rapidly, she frowned at whoever was looming behind Helle in the shadowy night, pursing her painted lips in disapproval. "And who are you?"

The voice hesitated slightly. " - a friend."

Drawing herself up like an angry walrus, Mrs. Paules bristled visibly, putting her hands on her skirted hips. "If you think I am going to just leave the child of one of my greatest friends in the hands of a strange man, then you are much mistaken!"

Behind her, Helle suddenly caught the distinct sound of a woman's shoes rapping noisily on the stone flagstones of the street, and someone tall and wearing expensive dark clothes drew up alongside her. "She is with _us_, my lady."

Mrs. Paules' frown deepened. "Who _are_ you?"

Carlson bit his lip, looking increasingly agitated. "Ma'am…"

The strange man spoke once more. "Some old friends of - of - "

Above her, Helle's sharp hearing just managed to pick up on the woman hissing her old father's name into the man's ear.

" - Athanasios, yes," he coughed. "Him. We knew - know him. Well."

While he continued to struggle with Mrs. Paules, who was looking distinctly unimpressed at his pathetic attempts to convince her, the woman bent down to Helle, to whisper in her ear.

"It's been a long time, _Enochi_. The Earl was beginning to get quite worried."

Something jolted in Helle's stomach, and she glanced sideways to meet the shining ovals of a young woman's sunglasses. Her dark eyes glinted behind them, and a gentle autumn breeze stirred her thick blonde fringe.

Frowning, Helle opened her mouth, but the blonde woman raised a hand clad in a leather glove and pressed a slender finger to her pretty lips, spread with deep purplish lipstick. Feeling more confused than ever, Helle turned away and returned her large brown eyes to stare at the now distinctly wrong-footed Mrs. Paules.

In desperation, the plump woman turned to Helle for support. "Helle, _darling_," she said condescendingly. "Do you know these people? Do you want Carlson to call the police?"

Carlson looked up at that, his face markedly dismayed at his mistress' words. To his intense relief, Helle shook her dark head firmly. "No, ma'am." She smiled smugly up at the old woman. "Yes, I do know them."

"Are you sure?"

Now seriously irritated, Helle stamped one foot like a child denied sweets. "For goodness' sakes woman! _Yes_, they happen to be old friends of my father's. Now would you _go away_ and stop being an insufferable old_ hag_!"

"Well, I - !" Mrs. Paule's doughy face flushed a deep crimson and it was with an offended air that she turned on one heel and strode back to her waiting carriage. Just before she clambered heavily in, she cast a sour look at Helle and sniffed haughtily. "I thought your parents had raised you well…Evidently, I was wrong! Carlson, we're going!"

Clearly greatly relieved to be doing so, Carlson hauled himself back into his seat behind the horse and, with an anxious glance over his shoulder at Helle and her two new companions, snapped the reins and sent the horse careening away down the street with a clatter of hooves.

Helle instantly whirled on the spot to face the two people standing behind. They were both young, in their early twenties, and wearing matching outfits. The freckled man was very well-built, with broad shoulders and enormously thick wrists. His black suit was straining at the seams and his blonde hair was straggly and unkempt compared with his companion's sleek fair locks. She was pretty and slender, wearing a very serious outfit of a dark brown blazer and a knee-length pencil skirt. With narrowed eyes Helle took in what she was seeing, and folded her arms sullenly. "I," she said, very firmly. "Am sick to death of no one telling me _anything_."

The blonde woman and the heavy-set man looked at each other. After a silence, Helle raised one eyebrow. "Who _are_ you two? Are you like Alexis?"

"Alexis?" grunted the man, his thick brow furrowing in confusion.

"The old man," murmured the woman, removing her sunglasses in a single dainty motion. "And no, Helle, we're not. My name is Lulu Belle."

Helle felt her jaw drop open involuntarily as Lulu Belle tossed her head back and the blonde of her hair instantly deepened to jet-black to match her now dusky grey skin and the row of dark stigmata scars spread across her forehead underneath her thick fringe.

Slowly she raised one trembling finger to point at the Noah standing before her. "You…you're like me."

Lulu Belle nodded, and elbowed her male companion in the ribs. "Come on Skin. You too. Show her."

The blonde man grumbled and shuffled his feet irritably. "I can't be bothered."

"You're one too?" demanded Helle immediately, turning on him. "Go on. Show me." When he still appeared reluctant, Helle jabbed him in the forearm with one finger hard. "Show me!" she insisted rudely.

He blinked down at her in surprise, clearly unused to people talking to him in such a manner. With a sigh of annoyance he closed his eyes and passed a hand over his now dark, spiky hair, sweeping it off his large, scarred forehead. "Happy now?"

Lulu Belle glanced over her shoulder to where the policeman had now straightened up and was clearly staring hard at the trio, probably wondering what they were up to. "Skin, we should get moving."

'Skin' followed her gaze, and his lip curled. "I can take him."

"No, you idiot," Lulu Belle snapped, taking Helle's wrist in her gloved hand. "We can't afford to be detected so early on in the Earl's plans. You _know_ that Tyki and Jasdevi have only just turned."

"Yeah? We've got akuma, haven't we? It's not like we're exactly gonna be overwhelmed any time soon…"

Lulu Belle rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Just listen to me, all right? Let's get out of these streets…" So saying, she tightened her grip on Helle and began walking purposefully down a side-alley, the two fading into complete darkness as they disappeared from the pools of orange light cast by the street lamps.

"Hey!" cried Helle, stumbling slightly as she was pulled through a foul smelling puddle and over a pile of old crates. "Where are we going?"

Behind her, the man called Skin filled up the entire alley, hurrying after them and glancing over his shoulder as he did so. "We're going somewhere less exposed," he explained, cursing as he tripped over a discarded box of old fruit. "You're Helle Anatolia, aren't you? I'm Skin Boric."

"We're here on orders from the Millennium Earl," added Lulu Belle, placing her sunglasses back on. "Skin, humans up ahead."

"Noted," grunted Skin, his blonde hair falling into his pale face once more.

"You've learned how to keep your human skin on, right Helle?" asked Lulu Belle, glancing briefly down at her young companion.

Helle opened her mouth, but was immediately cut off by a curt "Good," from Lulu Belle, before the trio tumbled from the alleyway into a brightly-lit main street. After the dark shadows of the alley, it was a shock to be standing under such a blaze of gas lamps and Helle had to blink several times to adjust.

They were standing on the pavement, staring out onto a wide street, much wider than the previous one. Horse carriages passed endlessly up and down on a busy traffic lane running down the centre, and the edges were lined with brightly-painted shop fronts, before which expensively dressed men and woman drifted vaguely like ribboned ships lost at sea.

"I know this place," said Helle. "This is the high street my mother - Ionna - liked to shop at." She scowled to herself and bit her lip, irritated at her slip of the tongue. Lulu Belle didn't miss it, and it was with a raised eyebrow that she glanced down at Helle. "You really are quite 'fresh', aren't you?"

"How d'you mean?" said Helle grumpily, sticking her bottom lip out.

"I mean, you're not entirely Noah, not yet."

"Then _what_ am I?" demanded Helle. "Everyone's telling me what I am and what I'm not, and I don't know any more! Am I Helle? Or am I _Enochi_?"

"This isn't really the place," muttered Skin, glancing around with a harried expression on his face. "Lulu Belle, let's get moving."

"Yes, let's," she agreed. "This way, Helle."

"Huh? But where - " Helle was cut off as Lulu Belle wrenched her sideways once more, and together they strode away down the street.

Skin stayed where he was for a moment, staring vacantly across the street at the sweetshop opposite. After a few seconds he realised he had been left behind, and had to jog after them to keep up. "Wait for me!"

Her long blonde ponytail flying after her, Lulu Belle turned suddenly to the left, through a large polished set of double doors that were held open for her by a man in a top hat and a red velvet suit. He was professional enough to not react to Skin tumbling untidily in through the doors, but still didn't quite manage to suppress a raised eyebrow and a disapproving sniff.

Helle gazed around her in amazement at the high marble ceiling and the enormous purple curtains hanging from elegantly carved golden poles, covering several arched alcoves. "Where are we?"

"This is a sort of club," explained Lulu Belle in an undertone. "The sort of place where businessmen might book a room for lunch or something…"

"And what are we doing here?" asked Helle.

"The Earl has money," muttered Skin as he drew up alongside her, bending down to whisper in her ear. "He's paid for a room here, so we can explain everything to you."

"Just explain it now!" she answered shrilly, causing several people to turn their heads.

Lulu Belle hissed angrily, and clapped a hand over Helle's mouth. "Shh! We can't draw attention to ourselves, do you understand?"

"It's the whole reason we're here," agreed Skin. "Humans don't know about the existence of the Noah, and we want to keep it that way…for now."

Lulu Belle nodded and signalled to a tuxedo-wearing man. "Excuse me sir…a room, under the name Lulu Belle?"

He nodded and began flicking through the large leather book laid before him on his heavy mahogany desk. "Umm…hmm…yes, here we go." He smiled and nodded at her, hair shining with grease under the chandelier light. "May I see some identification, please?"

With an impatient click of the tongue, Lulu Belle extracted a folded sheet of yellowed paper from her pocket and flipped it open, revealing a page of impeccably tidy handwriting in black ink. The man took it delicately between finger and thumb and squinted at it for a few seconds, nodding in satisfaction as his eyes alighted on the printed name and signature found at the bottom. "All in order…upstairs, on the left, Ma'am."

"Thank you."

Gesturing for Helle and Skin to follow, Lulu Belle breezed past the man and continued up the broad marble staircase that shone so brilliantly under the candlelight. Skin took the steps two at a time with his massive stride, while little Helle had to hop up them daintily one-by-one by his side. As she did so, she glanced sideways at him curiously, and tugged at his jacket sleeve.

"What?" he demanded, shrugging her off.

Helle pointed ahead to where Lulu Belle was striding purposefully before them, cutting a wide swathe through the crowds of suit-wearing men, many of whom stared shamelessly after the beautiful young woman with awe in their eyes. "Is she your wife, or your sister?"

Skin's eyes flashed angrily. "What makes you think she's my _sister_?"

Helle shrugged. "You've both got blonde hair." She cocked her head to one side. "So she's your wife?"

"No!" snarled Skin, clenching his jaw and staring resolutely ahead. "She's just a comrade."

"Oh."

"You're very nosy for such a little girl," commented Skin after a pause, glaring down at her.

"I'm not a little girl," she retorted irritably, shrinking to his side as a particularly large crowd of talkative people shoved past, laughing at the tops of their voices.

"Oh? How old are you, then?"

As they reached the top of the stairs and followed Lulu Belle as she turned left, Helle bit her lip and frowned. "I'm not sure." She began counting on her fingers, mouthing silently to herself. "I think…something like…thirteen?"

Skin let loose a shouty, amused laugh and called ahead to his female friend. "Hey, Lulu! Lulu!"

She stopped and whirled on the spot, ponytail flying. "Skin, be _quieter_, can't you? What do you want?"

Grinning, Skin jabbed a thick finger down towards Helle. "She still thinks she's thirteen years old. Funny, huh?"

Pursing her perfect lips, Lulu Belle raised one eyebrow behind her tinted glasses. "Yes, that's a scream. Now, come _on_."

Helle frowned as she jogged after Skin in an attempt to keep up with him. "Why is that so funny?"

He shrugged. "You're not human any more," he explained, lowering his voice as a suited man walked past, an auburn-haired woman hanging on his arm and giggling loudly.

"Oh?"

"The Noah you've become is…hundreds of years old."

"I'm not a _hundred_," protested Helle. "That's _old_!"

"In here, you two," interrupted Lulu Belle, shoving a door to the left open. Helle skipped ahead of Skin, and in the process nearly tripped over the thick red carpet covering the floor. Catching herself just in time, she stopped alongside a small, circular mahogany table and stared at it, eyes shining in the light cast by an elegant silver candelabra that someone had lit in the middle of the table. Arranged around it were three stiff-backed chairs.

Lulu Belle hooked one out with her foot and sat down swiftly, motioning for Skin to shut the door. Now that the noisy hustle and bustle of the outside corridors had been shut out, the room suddenly appeared much smaller, not so much cosy as claustrophobic. Maybe it was the high ceiling, and the way in which the walls appeared to close in on the narrow space, or maybe it was the vertically striped red and gold wallpaper that caught and reflected the light back until Helle began to feel almost dizzy at the opulence of it all.

Voices drifted, muffled but audible, through the wallpaper from the room next door. There was a noisy clink of glasses, and a cry of, "_¡Qué pasada!" _amid delighted cheers as the raucous crowd next door agreed with their Spanish friend.

Skin's temple twitched slightly, but he remained seated, kneading his massive knuckles pensively. Lulu Belle, however, ignored the distraction completely, and removed a thin leather book from inside her jacket, fixing Helle with a serious look. "Okay."

Immediately Helle sat up straighter, and began drumming her fingertips on the table in anticipation. "Is this where you tell me everything?"

"…_y después de haber salido, decidí…_" Next door, the Spanish continued in full flow, as the faceless man plunged enthusiastically into some anecdote, goaded by the applause of his companions. Grinding his teeth, Skin shot a glare at Lulu Belle. "Can't I just - "

"No," she said, very firmly, and with cold authority that Helle had never seen in a woman before. "You'll give us away. Just ignore them."

"I hate foreigners," growled Skin.

"Don't be rude," snapped Lulu Belle irritably. "Half your family are foreign."

At this, Skin was forced into a dubious silence, his now ashy-grey brow crinkling with displeasure as Lulu Belle began delicately leafing through her small book. Helle noticed that as she turned the pages, several stray sheets of paper kept sliding out - a few handwritten documents, and what looked like photographs.

"What are they?"

"Photos. And drawings."

"Can I see?"

"They're not any of your business."

Helle returned Lulu Belle's stern glare with a mutinous pout. "If they're anything to do with Noah, then they are too." And so saying, she leaned across and plucked the book from Lulu's startled hands, gathering up the fallen pictures as she did so.

Interestedly, Helle began picking through the bundle of images. They were not, as she had previously thought, entirely photos. In fact, a large majority were drawings - beautiful, hand-rendered watercolour and ink portraits. None of them looked entirely conventional; not one of the subjects were sitting, posed, for the artist. They all had the appearance of storybook images, as though someone had painted these characters simply from their imagination.

Cocking her head curiously to one side, Helle raised one. "This looks like you."

"It is me," said Lulu Belle sourly, folding her arms in a disgruntled manner. "Put it down."

"_¡Qué lástima, señor!"_ someone called out next door, in a distinctly mocking tone, as their host's story dragged on and on.

"_¡Sí, sí! ¡Hablas por los codos!"_

"_¡Me aburre como una ostra!"_

"_¡Cierra el pico!"_ they heard the first man shout back, his words now vaguely slurred by drink.

His friends returned his angry words with even more laughter, and someone else shouted, _"¡No hacemos más que tomarte el pelo! Echa un trago…"_

Even Lulu Belle closed her eyes, the briefest flutter of annoyance passing across her lovely face. Helle, on the other hand, was far too fascinated by the pictures, looking quickly from the painting of Lulu Belle to the real woman seated by her side. "Your hair's shorter in this."

"That's 'cuz it's not her," grunted Skin.

"But she said - "

"I know what I said," interrupted Lulu Belle. "He's right, and I'm right. It _is_ me and it _isn't _me."

Helle frowned. "But how does that - "

"Shush, and let me explain," said Lulu Belle, not unkindly. "Every human contains Noah genes. Basically, this means that every human has the potential to become one of the Noah."

"Except that before a Noah dies, he or she will usually name a successor," continued Skin. "And when that successor is born - if they're not already - then their body will at some point begin converting to the Noah."

Helle thought for a moment. "So the human is like…a child of that Noah?"

"No," said Lulu Belle. "That human _is_ that Noah. Each Noah is hundreds of years old, it's just the _bodies_ that are young. We've survived by hopping from human to human, taking over the vessel of flesh and converting it for our own personal use."

"A Noah retains all their human memories, but personality-wise they'll eventually end up as the Noah."

"Oh."

"You're still halfway there," added Lulu Belle with a humourless smile. "Your body still thinks it's human at times."

"But…I can _do_ stuff," said Helle breathlessly, her knees jiggling with excitement as she suddenly remembered. "I made the door _eat_ my fa - Athanasios. It - I - _killed_ him."

Skin nodded appreciatively. "Nice going."

"All the Noah have abilities," said Lulu Belle. "All different."

Frowning in an effort to take all this in, Helle returned her attention to the picture in her hand. "So…when you say this _is_ you…"

"That's me, about two hundred years ago," said Lulu Belle, shrugging. "I was called Graziella back then."

"Lulu Belle's not your name?"

"It's my _human_ name. Noah commonly take the human's name after they've turned, although we've all got true Noah names as well."

"And you're _Lustful_," finished Helle.

Lulu Belle looked very surprised. "Yes. How did you know that?"

Helle shrugged her delicate shoulders. "It's written on your picture here. I just guessed." She turned to Skin. "What's your real name then?"

He shifted awkwardly, and finally struggled out, "_Wrathful_."

"And I think you know yours," grinned Lulu Belle. "It has been a while since we've had _Enochi_ in the family. You obviously chose an unborn child as your host. Well," she added, stretching her arms and yawning in a rather catlike manner. "I suppose it's not uncommon. You didn't quite beat Tyki or Jasdevi to it, though."

"Who are - "

"Pictures," grunted Skin simply, pointing at them. Obediently Helle cast the one of Lulu Belle aside and examined the next few. All showed people with grey skin and black hair, many named in the same bizarre spidery script that had captioned Lulu Belle's. Silently she read them, mouthing the words to herself as she attempted to make sense of them. _Tryde…Desires…_Skin leaned over and stopped her at _Joyd_. "Him. That's Tyki."

The man was young, wearing clothing that looked several decades old, and had long, black curly hair drawn back in a ponytail.

Lulu Belle clicked her tongue. "At least, that was him _before_. He was killed, and passed on his memories pretty quickly. I think they took only a couple of months to regenerate in Tyki." She smiled dryly. "His hair's much shorter now."

"It's why he's such a wimp," muttered Skin Boric under his breath, folding his arms. "I don't reckon he's quite ready yet."

"Oh, be quiet," replied Lulu Belle offhandedly. "If the Earl thinks he is, then he is." She smiled dryly at the picture Helle was holding up. "His hair's much shorter now."

Broodingly, Helle continued to leaf through picture after picture of dark-haired, grey-skinned individuals. Some Noah were appearing twice, looking only slightly different each time. To her surprise, the next painting she turned over depicted a young man with long blonde hair, the pale yellow stark and glaring when offset against the collection of stubborn black. She held it up. "Who's that?"

"That's Jasdevi."

"The other recent one?"

"Yeah…" said Skin slowly. "Only…"

"Only what?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, something went wrong."

"How so?"

Lulu Belle took over. "It's only to be expected. Jasdevi's always been wild, a bit…odd."

"You mean he's bloody raving mad," snorted Skin. "Completely bonkers."

"Yeah, _thanks_ Skin," she hissed back, irritated that he was interrupting her story. "Anyway, I don't know if he intended to do this, or if something happened, but he's ended up in two people."

Helle looked startled. "What, he's split between two bodies?"

"Yeah," chuckled Skin, evidently highly amused by the matter. "Typical Jasdevi. No one can work out how the _hell_ he managed it."

The next image was, surprisingly, a young girl, possibly even younger than Helle herself. She blinked. "Did this one die really quickly or something? Why is she so young?"

"No, that's Road," said Lulu Belle, raising one eyebrow.

"What's her Noah name?"

"…Road."

"What's her human name?"

"Road."

Helle scowled slightly irritably. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, no," soothed Lulu Belle. "It's just…Road, well, she's…different."

"How so?"

"Don't be fooled by her picture," said Skin helpfully. "I think she's the oldest of all the current Noah, in terms of her human body. She hasn't died and regenerated for _years_."

"Actually, I think she could even still be in her original body, since she doesn't have a human name," said Lulu Belle. "That makes her the First Child."

"Normally she'd be the one talking to you like this, but she's helping the Earl get Jasdevi settled…" said Skin vaguely, beginning to lose interest in the whole affair. He stared vacantly at the candles in front of him, eyes following the flickering light.

"So if she's so…old, how come she looks so young?" demanded Helle.

"She's the Noah of Dreams, like I'm Form, you're Guilt and Skin's Wrath. And that means that Road can alter dimensions and so on. What you're seeing is probably not _really_ her…" Lulu Belle lapsed into silence, tapping her lip thoughtfully. "…it's best not to ask where Road's concerned, Helle. She's a tricky one."

Next door, the disorderly party of Spanish people had quietened down somewhat. Someone spoke, in a hoarse, rather hushed voice as though exhausted. _"Quería ser abogado."_

"_No importo un bledo…" _replied someone else dully.

"_Tengo sueño," _admitted a third.

There was a faint creak as their door was opened, and the three Noah heard the hushed tones of a doorman, speaking very politely and gently. "I'm sorry sirs, but we are closing up now. We're going to have to ask you to leave…"

"Okay, _sí_," grunted someone. "We go."

Lulu Belle got to her feet and began hurriedly gathering the pictures back into the book. "We should leave now. Skin, you're grey. Fix it."

Helle watched in amazement as his grey complexion instantly paled, and his hair faded into blonde once more. He glowered at her self-consciously. "What?"

"It's just…really strange to watch, that's all."

"Haven't seen _your_ Noah form yet," he countered, getting up with a scrape of chair legs, muffled slightly by the heavy carpet.

"Well don't go showing us now," snapped Lulu Belle as she strode to the door. "The humans would have a - oh, hello!" she added breathlessly, as the door was opened before she could even lay a hand on it.

The doorman smiled toothily at her. "It's closing time, Ma'am."

"Yes, we were just leaving." The three pushed past him and began strolling back to the staircase.

Helle tugged at Lulu Belle's arm. "Are you taking me with you now?"

"Yes," she said. "You know Turkey?"

Sticking her nose in the air, Helle frowned slightly. "Don't insult me. Of course I do. I've got relatives who moved their, you know."

"No, you don't," said Skin. "You did when you were human. Not any more."

"Yes, well," said Lulu Belle. "We're meeting the Earl in a place called Canakkale. We're going to have to take a boat from here to Imbros, and then from there to Canakkale."

"Such a pain," growled Skin. "Why'd you have to pick a human who lives on a bloody _island_, huh?" This was addressed to Helle, who's eyes flashed angrily.

"I didn't _know_ at the time, did I?" she replied sharply. "The family were living on the mainland at first."

"She's sounding more Noah by the minute," said Lulu Belle in amusement, earning herself a sour look from Helle.

Before Skin could reply, there was a cry of "_¡Eh, Señora! ¡Señora Bonita!" _Lulu Belle, Helle and Skin stopped, and turned to see a gaggle of suit-wearing Spaniards, most grinning in a rather embarrassed way as two of their drunkest companions staggered forwards, catcalling after Lulu Belle.

One stumbled and clutched at his friend's shoulders. "_No me lo puedo creer, Gabriel. ¿Es tanto guapa, no?"_

The other giggled uncontrollably and pointed at Skin. _"Pero, pero, ¡mira! Tiene un novio muy feo…" _They both collapsed into helpless laughter, and Skin frowned, aware that he had been insulted in some way.

"Ugh…" Passing a hand through her hair and replacing her spectacles, Lulu Belle turned on her heel. "Let's go before these drunks do anything stupid."

"I'm sorry, _Señora,_" one of the more sober members of the party called. "They, er, have had the one too many…"

"Yes, I can see," she replied crisply. "Come, Skin."

"_¿Señora, por qué tienes prisa?" _yelled one man at her retreating back. "_¡Queda_, _echa una cana al aire!"_

The second man had released his companion and was stumbling forward. Halfway down the corridor he stopped, and nearly fell down had he not supported himself by clinging to Skin's forearm. Skin looked livid, and made a heroic attempt to shrug the man off without resorting to breaking his neck. "Let me go!"

"_Lo - lo siento…eh, no…"_ The man hiccupped, and slowly allowed his eyes to focus on Skin. "I - is sorry, _Señor. _Very…most sorry…"

"Get off me."

"_Tengo sueño…" _he moaned.

Then he caught sight of Helle, staring at him from Skin's other side, and smiled blearily, holding his hand out to her. "_Hola, chica pequeña…_" He hiccupped again. "Hello, little girl."

"Hello," she replied uncertainly.

"Don't talk to them," replied Lulu Belle in disgust, tapping her foot impatiently. "We're in a hurry."

The man snorted with laughter once more, and pointed at Skin, who's scowl deepened. _"Eres…feo…no solo feo sino que también estúpido…_" He coughed, and then made the mistake of repeating his sentence in English. "You…are ugly, y _estúpido…_stupid man…ugly and stupid man, ha ha…"

Lulu Belle had to dart forward and pull Helle out harm's way as Skin let loose a roar like a wounded bull and picked the man up bodily in one hand. He began struggling and screaming, _"¡Suéltame, suéltame!"_

"Skin, don't!" howled Lulu Belle at him, clenching both fists. "You _idiot!_"

He paid no heed to her words, but threw the man with all his might at the second drunkard. Helle winced at the nasty crack made as the two men's skulls connected, and they both slumped unconscious to the floor. The rest of the party began wailing and screaming in terror as Skin advanced on them, practically falling over each other to get away.

One raised a trembling finger and pointed at Skin's now very grey, and very obvious, new complexion. _"¡Monstruo! ¡Monstruo!" _he cried incoherently, the word being picked up and cried fearfully by every man in the group.

Lulu Belle dashed forward and her hand fastened tight around Skin's upper arm, yanking him back. "Skin, listen to me, and calm down, _now!"_ she hissed furiously in his ear. "Look at what you've done! We're going to have the police on our backs thanks to you!" As she spoke, she indicated the terrified-looking club staff, who were cowering at the top of the stairs, one signalling frantically to someone on the ground floor below.

One of the Spanish men picked up a vase from the nearest table and threw it as hard as he could at Skin. Drink soured his aim, and the ceramic vessel struck Lulu Belle a glancing blow, her glasses flying off and smashing on the floor.

Angrily she dashed the blood away with one sleeve, revealing a single deep cut across her perfect cheek. But right before Helle's eyes, the cut closed up, leaving nothing more than smooth, white skin.

The man who'd thrown the vase looked even more shocked than Helle and he began spluttering unintelligibly, waving his hands.

"Let's move!" shouted Lulu Belle, turning with Skin.

"Don't you dare!" cried one doorman, pulling out - bizarrely - a gun. It was a small, silver handgun, and probably not strong enough to take Skin down.

The ominous object was still, however, enough to make a deathly silence fall upon the assembled crowd, and Lulu Belle frowned under her blonde fringe, mind working furiously.

Eventually she turned to Helle. "Go."

"What?"

"Go!" She gave the girl a slight push. "Now! You can get to Canakkale alone, meet the Earl there!"

"I don't know who that is!"

"You'll know him when you see him," said Lulu Belle, unhelpfully.

"But - !"

"He'll find you," said Lulu Belle, glancing anxiously around. "Now!"

Heart in her mouth, Helle turned, and ran, pushing past the doorman, past his companion, and hurtled down the stairs and out of the front door.

Lulu Belle straightened up, and looked directly at the man who had injured her with the vase. "You broke my sunglasses."

"Ma'am, don't move!" shouted the man with the gun. "The police are on their way!"

"What a pain," growled Skin.

Sighing, Lulu Belle ran a hand through her thick, black hair. "Oh well." She opened her golden eyes and smiled. "I'll let you go first, shall I?"

Skin grinned, and cracked his knuckles. "Oh boy." His gaze roved over the assembled group of terrified humans. His grin widened considerably. "I feel like a kid in a candy store."

**[Whew...that was long. Too long. If any Spanish is incorrect, please let me know (I like writing in Spanish...). By the way, I haven't really bothered to read past volume 14 of -Man, so all this stuff I've put in about the Noah has probably turned out to be wrong, but I don't care. I like to imagine that this is how the Noah work, it makes sense to me. Also, for writing purposes, I've assumed that Lulu Belle and Skin turned before Tyki and Jasdevi, although this is probably not true.]**


End file.
